


Suffer the children

by d_aia



Series: Try [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Both Underage, Headmaster Dippet, Lovable Assholes, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-12 05:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d_aia/pseuds/d_aia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry gets sent into an alternate reality where he is asked to solve the mistery of the Chamber of Secrets. But Harry doesn't want only that, he wants to change the world. Or at least to give Tom Riddle a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own, don't make money!
> 
> Update: Haven't decided yet. No later than the 26th Feb, but it could be sooner. 
> 
> Notes: PTSD has a violent, angry part, that sometimes comes with taking huge risks, beyond the normal symptoms (loss of appetite, bad dreams, flashbacks). There are levels of PTSD, like with any illness, and it is my opinion that after the life Harry has had and considering his own personality, he is displaying only mild symptoms. To further explain the out-of-character behavior for Harry, I would ask to please consider the fact that he's been through a war, hunted and haunted.
> 
> Dumbledore is sometimes asking for it, if you ask me, and Harry is in a place where, for the first time in his life, he questions Dumbledore's motives. He doesn't do it in a peaceful or thoughtful manner, but let's all remember that he's a teenager. 
> 
> I think that's it for now.

 

 

Harry was sitting on the floor, waiting for his turn to get checked out by Madam Pomfrey. He had said time and time again that there was no need for that. A few scratches and bruises were nothing to worry about. He just wanted to sleep, but he was vetoed by almost everybody, especially after Hermione dished about his night. And everybody was still wondering how come Voldemort was so sure he had died.

 

His eyes had just started to fall shut when he saw a light heading straight towards him. It was an odd light made out of different colored strands of glittering ribbons. It looked kind of like dozens of spells gravitating around a center. What was in that center, he didn’t know.  He didn’t exactly care right now. If it weren’t for the fact that it was coming for him, he would rather sleep. But, as it stood, he had to make some sense of it. He was sure it wasn’t a present from anybody and he really didn’t want it anywhere near him.

 

He ducked and rolled and tried a couple of spells. ‘ _Finite’_ hadn’t worked, though to be honest, he didn’t think it would. Neither did _‘Protego’_ or his stronger protection wards. He tried one or two charms which were meant to show the nature of the spell but it was swallowed by the rolling lights. Even _‘Bombarda Maxima’_ , which was supposed to at least blow the wall behind it to kingdom come, hadn’t had any effect on it or the wall.

 

All the spells were absorbed by the light and it was undeterred in its quest for him. In fact it was going faster. He barely rolled to the right with a grunt of pain as it came hurtling after him. Harry tried to conjure a wall between them as a last resort, but the light, which he hadn’t even managed to get a good look at, kept coming.

 

So he stopped. He stood and just looked. And in the center he thought he saw a library or an office. Harry deduced it was a type of transporter spell. He hadn’t seen it before, but he had to choose, continue to fight without any results or go with it and hope to be able to fight more successfully once he arrived wherever that was. He took a deep breath and started running towards it.

 

It was nothing like he had ever felt before. It wasn’t dizzying, uncomfortable or long, it was in fact a very short travel. Like passing through a doorway and just as painless. When he got to the other side, he was moving too fast for anybody to aim a disarming spell on him. He used his speed to see his surroundings and identify his enemies. He was in an office, in the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts though he didn’t know any of the knick knacks. And when he saw Dumbledore, raising a shield against his disarming spell, he understood. He was in another time.

 

He conjured a ward against any curses or spells. “When am I?” he asked in an icy voice.

 

“In 1943. Mr.…?” Headmaster Dippet, the only other man in the room, gently inquired while still obviously disturbed by Harry’s less than discreet entrance.

 

Harry ignored the question. “Why am I here?”  He knew he still had the grime and the blood from the battle on him. Harry hoped his tone of voice conveyed that he had no more patience.

 

“If you’d allow me, Headmaster Dippet?” Dumbledore asked politely and at a nod form the Headmaster, he continued, “I am Professor Albus Dumbledore and you are here because we needed the Master of the Elder Want to help us in a most unfortunate situation.”

 

Harry could feel ice cold rage travel through him. He didn’t know how he felt about Dumbledore, but he knew he had enough of that move from him. That ‘you are required to save the world, so sorry for all the pain it may cause you’ and a grandfatherly smile. He took advantage of Dumbledore’s pause and said, “And you were indisposed?”

 

Dippet’s eyes went large and he turned in surprise toward Dumbledore who was watching Harry intently. “We know each other?”

 

“We will.” Harry chuckled at the calculating look on Dumbledore’s face. “And no, I am not dark. You just caught me at a bad time. Were you? Indisposed I mean. Or you just didn’t want to tell everybody you were the Master of the Elder Wand?” A thought struck. “Wait a minute. You were waiting for you, weren’t you?”

 

Now doing his share of ignoring, by going over Dippet’s outraged gasp, Dumbledore admitted, “Yes, I was expecting myself. I had no reason to think that I may be still the Master of the Elder Wand, but I hoped. We are in a desperate situation and he could have helped us. He could have helped the school.” He sounded truly sad, the spark in his eye dimmed.

 

Harry frowned. “What’s happening?”

 

Dippet seemed to regain his ability to speak. “We have had a couple of disappearances. Obviously we strayed a bit too far in the future, but you wouldn’t happen to know anything about them?”

 

Disappearances, 1943… this was the first time the Chamber was opened. Or was it?

 

“Disappearances or they end up in the hospital petrified?” Harry had to be sure.

 

The two exchanged a look. Dippet said, “Petrified.”

 

“Well,” Harry twitched his wand and the shield lowered shimmered out of existence, “there are about three people that are now alive who know what happened. And I told the other two. I guess you’re in luck. My name is Harry Potter.”

 

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Potter,” Mr. Dippet said with a relieved smile.

 

Dumbledore nodded. He proceeded to caution Harry in a grave voice. “You will have to do what you can to stop it from happening, of course, but you must not tell anybody what you know about the future. After a few weeks we will send you back.”

 

It was Harry turn to nod. That didn’t mean he agreed, but he had understood the words. First, though, he had to tell Dumbledore something. “By the way and that’s the only thing I will say about the future,” ‘to you’ he added silently. “You gave it up. The wand. You let someone, not me but someone, disarm you. I am told what you did was very rare. Congratulations for that, sir.”

 

The two stars in Dumbledore’s eyes started their play again. “Thank you, my boy. I can only hope to be so wise in this universe.”

 

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. Had Dumbledore been wise? Or had he been just cruel? And should it matter what his actions did to Harry when they saved so many people? He just didn’t know. For now, he simply bowed his head and said nothing.

 

“What should we call you?” Dippet asked while walking towards a set of shelves.

 

“Harry Potter? What’s wrong with that?” Harry grimaced when he saw Dippet take the Hat off the shelves. “Can’t I stay in the school without being a student? I mean, it’s only a few weeks.” He hadn’t finished school, he hadn’t been there for his 7th year, but he wouldn’t be staying, so what was the purpose?

 

“You already took your NEWTS?” Dumbledore asked gently. His twinkling eyes said they already knew the answer. Harry just gave him a look and Dumbledore smiled.

 

“We will use your name, as it is one you already answer to and ‘Potter’ it’s a pretty popular name. How old are you eighteen? Nineteen?” Dippet tilted his head, studying him.

 

“Seventeen. I was born in the summer,” mumbled Harry. He thought he could see frost on the window. “But it wasn’t winter in my time. It was spring.”

 

“Seventeen, perfect. It’s early November now so you didn’t lose that much of the school year.” He turned towards Dumbledore. “What do you think, Dumbledore? Seventh year?” Dippet said cheerfully.

 

“Make it sixth,” Dumbledore raised a pacifying hand when Harry opened his mouth to protest. “It will help us determine the differences in the curriculum. You are a young man without a history in our universe. It could only happen if you were home schooled and it is customary for home schooled students to be hold back a year until they accustom themselves with the pace.”

 

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but closed it quickly. That will bring him closer to Tom. “If you think that’s best.” Now, all he had to do was make the Hat put him in Slytherin. Which would be simple, he would just need to stop convincing it not to put him there. Or was it? How much of what the Hat saw in his first year was him and how much was Voldemort soul?

 

With some trepidation he reached for the hat. “Is this really necessary?”

 

Dumbledore nodded, but it was Dippet who answered. “Yes. You will be the talk of the school, even with the disappearances,” he seemed nervous for some reason. Kept making aborted movements toward Dumbledore, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to look at him or not. “It’s better if you are sorted and attending school.”

 

Harry didn’t have any other choice. He took the Hat and put it on his head.

 

“You are an interesting one, I’d say. Cunning and bravery. But where to put you? Where will you do best?” the Hat pondered. Harry exhaled softly, relieved. The Hat went on, “Hm… But you are very much a grown wizard from what I can see you here. Death, friendship, love. And this is not the first time you’ve been sorted. I see that you previously chose Gryffindor. What about this time? Where would you like to go?”

 

Harry answered mentally, “Slytherin.” He didn’t even have to think.

 

“Very well then. Good luck,” the Hat chuckled. It said out loud, “Slytherin.”

 

He murmured a ‘thank you’ and got the Hat off his head. Harry handed it off to Dippet. “What’s my story?”

 

“You will have to say you’re an orphan,” Dumbledore pronounced it like a life sentence.

 

Harry smiled bitterly. “That’s alright. I am one.”

 

Curiously, Dippet seemed relieved at the news. Before he could question him, Dumbledore continued. “You will say you were home schooled, your parents,  one of them muggle and one a witch or wizard, you can choose which, fearing to disband your family in a time of war, tried to keep you close to them thinking you’d be safe. Unfortunately, they perished in the war. And that left you, my dear boy, no choice but to come here.”

 

“My mother should be the witch. The Potters are still a popular pure-blood family, right?” He didn’t say what happened to the Potters and waited for their confused nod. As soon as he received it he continued. “Sounds good,” Harry simply accepted the story which, honestly, hit a bit too close to home. His thoughts, of course, flew to his home, and all the cuts and bruises started hurting anew. “If you don’t mind, when you kidnapped me, I was waiting for my turn to see the nurse.” He gestured at himself.

 

Dippet, who made a face when Harry mentioned kidnapping, suddenly went pale. It was kind of hilarious, really. “Of course, of course. You look like something the cat dragged in, you must see the nurse. Dumbledore, if you please, I think we are done here.”

 

“Headmaster,” Dumbledore nodded.

 

Harry said his own goodbye, turned and walked next to Dumbledore to the hospital wing. He could feel the man having questions, but it went against his advice to actually ask them. Harry decided to let him stew. If he managed to stop Tom, then this universe was going to change. His very presence here changed it regardless, so why all the secrecy?

 

He also remembered a baby shaped twisted thing which was to be Voldemort’s soul and now, that he had the chance, how could he resist trying to change that? Harry knew it was next to impossible to change Tom so much that Voldemort didn’t exist, but he had to try it. For that tortured soul, for the thousands who died, including so many people close him. Even if that meant he didn’t exist in this universe, or some of the people whose deaths he was trying to prevent didn’t get a change at life, how could he stand by, let it all happen and still sleep at night?

 

No, he decided, he was going to give his best shot. After all, that’s what he’s been doing all his life.

 

Dumbledore said other things on the way to the hospital wing always managing to find something else to say instead of asking what interested him. He opened him mouth when Harry winced, but he told him about the money he’d have. His eyebrow twitched but he said to Harry that his measurements would be taken in the hospital wing and new clothes along with his books would be brought to his room. When Harry stepped wrong on his left ankle, Dumbledore told him that he was sorry if Harry was a Quidditch player the auditions were closed and, anyway, it wouldn’t be fair to other students for Harry who was almost eighteen to compete. It went on and on, until fortunately, they reached the hospital wing.

 

Harry let Dumbledore do all the talking. Apparently, after his parents’ death he went a bit gaga and got into a scuffle with some dark wizards, when he was found by the Aurors, cowering in a ditch, and brought here. That story made him sound deranged and pathetic, but Harry rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything since the deranged part helped him evade the questions he didn’t want to answer.     

 

The nurse, Madam Highwood, was a portly woman with a warm smile and a cheerful, if a bit overbearing, disposition. It reminded Harry of Mrs. Weasley with the notable absence of the red hair. Madam Highwood was a brunette.

 

“Oh dear, your energy levels are very low. What happened to you?” she asked, concerned.

 

“Took an Avada Kedavra to the chest,” Harry answered tiredly. “Among others.” He just wanted to sleep, though apparently it was only ten in the morning on a Saturday here. November 6th, 1943. He wasn’t even surprised, anymore, it was just how his life worked.

 

A terse silence took over the empty hospital wing. Harry smiled innocently making Madam Highwood give a forced laugh which became more natural when Harry’s smile widened.

 

“The jokes kids make these days,” she said shaking her head. She looked at Dumbledore who had paled but managed a forced smile and a little chuckle when she turned. “All right, you rake, time for you to get some sleep. You are fine. I’ll let you have some privacy to get some rest.”

 

Madam Highwood waved her want and suddenly he was in a curtained off area. She smiled at him one last time and made her way out of his private ward, shooing Dumbledore ahead of her. Harry grinned back and waited until he heard the last of their echoing steps.

 

Harry was going to sleep, but not before he found out if he was still a Parselmouth or not. It suddenly seemed like an important detail considering his plans for changing Riddle. He took out his wand, making a note that he needed a holder for it, and whispered, “Serpensortia.”

 

On the small table next to the bed a snake appeared from the end of his wand, just like so much time ago when Malfoy had done it.

 

“You are very tired,” it hissed.

 

Harry felt relieved and happy and confused. “Thank you,” he said to the snake. He waved his wand again making it disappear.

 

Either Voldemort’s soul left his abilities with him or he really was another heir of Slytherin. He knew he didn’t have any parts of Voldemort’s soul, since he was hit with the killing curse. Maybe the abilities had just become ingrained? Or maybe he was Slytherin’s descendant. But, if he was Slytherin’s heir, why didn’t the basilisk listen to him in the Chamber of Secrets? Then again, which pets discard their owner’s orders? If Riddle got there first, then he was the rightful owner.

 

There was no chance of his father being part of the Slytherin line. So was his mother a descendent of Salazar Slytherin? It could happen; it would only take a squib to have gone over to the muggle world. If he was really interested, he supposed he could find out, though right now he had more pressing issues. Starting with getting some much needed rest and, after that, trying to befriend a future Dark Lord. Right now, it was essential that he could speak Parseltongue in order to make an impression on Tom. Anything else would have to wait. He put his head on the pillow and fell asleep immediately.    

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine.
> 
> Update: 20th Feb at the latest.
> 
> Thank you so much for your support, for the bookmarks and for leaving kudos or comments!

 

Harry woke up Sunday evening if he were to believe his wand. He was still tired, but this time he didn’t feel like he was functioning on hopes and determination. It felt like the sort of tired after a Quidditch practice. Muscles aching but a feeling of happiness like a glow in his chest. It was over for him, finally over, in the other universe and he had a chance to make sure it never happened like that for people in this one.

 

Sure, he felt drained and like it would never ever stop. Aching deep within his soul for people he had lost and for others that have lost. But this was the way his life worked and he wouldn’t have known how to live another one. He was once again in an impossible situation with the odds firmly against him. As luck would have it, he had experience in precisely that sort of situation.  

 

Madam Highwood waltzed in the ward with a big smile on her face having been alerted when he awoke. Now, that Harry could think properly he wondered where the petrified people were, since the rest of the hospital wing was empty. He remembered how Headmaster Dippet called them disappearances and realized they must have been sent to St. Mungo’s with the whole thing being kept silent. Maybe that was best for the school, but considering that it was how Myrtle died, he remained skeptic.

 

“Well, well your energy in up within the acceptable limits and your other wounds have healed nicely. How do you feel?” she asked with a smile.

 

“Like I could go to dinner so that the students will be all gossiped out by the time classed start tomorrow,” he grinned.

 

Madam Highwood giggled. “I think you underestimate our little tyrants.”

 

Little tyrants with the Chief Tyrant hiding among them or, better said, shining among them. Harry snorted mentally, but out loud he groaned dramatically, “Why must you dash my hopes, madam?”

 

She gave a tinkling laugh. “Quite the charmer. I think our dear Tom has some competition,” she declared eyes sparkling with delight.

 

Harry pretended he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Tom?”

 

“Mmhmm,” she continued grinning, “our best student. Tom Riddle.” You could practically feel her pride glowing like a small sun. “He’s actually in your year. In the same house, even! Goodness, what a coincidence!”

 

It was a bit surreal considering who she was talking about. He knew that Tom was well liked, but this was something else.

 

“I know,” she snapped her fingers. “Why don’t we take advantage of this opportunity and have Tom show you the way to the Great Hall?” Madam Highwood clapped her hands, playful and satisfied. She turned on her heel ready to bring her plan to life, without giving Harry time to say anything.

 

Not that he could say much, being pretty much speechless. Yes, he knew he had to meet him at some point, but so soon? A mighty sigh came from the bottom of his feet. Harry took hold of his courage from where it was hiding and quickly got dressed. He was not doing this in his pajamas.

 

Apparently, there was a Gringotts vault for those who helped the school, which, considering the fact that they took him from another universe with nothing but the clothes on his back and the wand in his hand, was to be quickly changed in his name. The new clothes, a key glinting duly in the light of the candles and a letter declaring his assets being the proof he was basing his assumption on that the vault had probably already been changed in his name. And, for the second time in his life, enough money to make him rich fell into his lap.

 

Harry wondered what that said about this universe.

 

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of voices coming towards him. Harry looked at his new tie and decided to leave it untied, preferring to focus his attention on Tom. He smiled bitterly. All the times he met Voldemort, he never felt ready, why would this time be any different?

 

The curtains were parted and there he stood. The ugliest Dark Lord in his previous face, that of a handsome young man with dark eyes. Harry involuntarily let out a vicious sounding laugh. He wondered now, what so many others had wondered, how could this student become the Dark Lord?

 

Tom narrowed his eyes.

 

“Sorry,” Harry was quick to apologize. “You’re so incredibly hu… ah, handsome.” He cursed himself for the almost slip, but really, could anyone blame him? “Harry Potter, I fluster easily,” which was true enough.

 

Caught between suspicion and exasperation, Tom finally decided to go with second, which he readily masked under a professional smile. “Tom Riddle. I don’t,” he said in a smooth and polished voice.

 

Harry didn’t offer his hand. Neither did Tom.

 

Madam Highwood clapped her hands again delighted and unsuspecting of their true feelings. “Oh, how wonderful! You will become the best of friends, just you wait.”

 

Their smiles suddenly became forced.

 

*

 

Dinner was awkward with so many people’s, students and teachers alike, eyes on him. Harry was seated next to Tom, who had already agreed to be his guide for the rest of the evening. If it weren’t for that, he was sure he would have lost the charming Slytherin as soon as they got to the Great Hall.

 

As things stood, he now had the dubious privilege to be hated and quietly mocked by those who thought themselves Riddle’s friends. They seemed to have taken personally the fact that Harry was seated at Tom’s right. Jealous fools, the lot of them. More entertaining was the continuous dance between ‘that’s mightily suspicious’ and ‘the idiot is charmed by my very existence’, hidden by the oh-so-careful politeness Tom was displaying.

 

Finally, finally the group rose to their feet at some sort of signal from Tom. He turned toward Harry and asked, “Are you ready to go?” in that polished voice that was starting to get on Harry’s nerves for how sugary-sweet and perfectly fake it was.

 

“Yes, thank Merlin, yes!” Harry gushed.

 

The smile turned a little at the corners. For just one moment, he was genuinely amused. Then the moment passed and the voice returned, “You didn’t like your meal?”

 

Harry snorted. “The meal was fine. It’s the attention I’m not a big fan of.”

 

Tom turned and regarded the other students, who were instantly preening, bending over or showing cleavage depending on their gender, making Harry shake his head. “You will be away from all that in the dungeons, at least. We each have our own bedroom. It’s small, but Slytherins value their privacy.”

 

Harry nodded and followed him to the dungeons.

 

They reached the portrait of a blond man with a snake coiled around his shoulders.

 

“Tom, good evening,” the man said with a short bow.

 

“Duke Michelson,” Tom gave his own bow, “this is a new student, Harry Potter. Harry Potter, our guardian, Duke Elisor Michelson, great potion master, duelist and Parselmouth of the 17th century.”

 

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” Harry said with a deeper bow.

 

“Pretty eyes,” hissed the snake coiled around Michelson’s shoulders.

 

Michelson chortled nastily. “That’s all he is, beloved, pretty.”

 

Harry eyes narrowed. This was his chance to show Tom what he could do. But something held him back. He could not name what exactly. He thought he could reason away his impulse, knowing that he had to have some things that were to be kept for a better time, but it wasn’t what actually stopped him. When he looked at Tom, he could see his expression shifting again under the heading ‘that’s mightily suspicious’ so he said, “Why are they hissing at me?”

 

Tom expression shifted again feigning innocence, “How should I know?”

 

“Don’t you know everything?” Harry couldn’t help but challenge.

 

Tom eyes were suddenly fixed on his. “Apparently not.”

 

A few moments of silence. “Don’t they do that with other students then?” Harry said to cut the tension.

 

Blinking suddenly, Tom seemed to recover and the hated tone was back. “Sometimes. No one knows what they say.” He shrugged elegantly. “The password is ‘hippogriffs in flight’.”

 

The portrait swung open and Harry passed through under the suspicious glare of the Duke. Harry ignored him and listened to Tom who started explaining the placement of the dormitories. He could see the common room, he knew he couldn’t enter the girls’ room and they were on their way.

 

Reaching Harry’s door, Tom said with the same politeness he had showed all evening, “I wish you the best of luck at our school and in the new year. Good night.”

 

 “Good night,” said Harry and entered the bedroom. “Oh, and Tom?”

 

He didn’t say anything until Tom stopped and turned his head. An eyebrow was raised in question.

 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t let the basilisk out of the Chamber in the next few days,” Harry smirked at the shock on Tom’s now pale face. Apparently, he finally decided on an expression and that was ‘I’m going to kill that little shit’.

 

Harry laughed and slammed the door closed.

 

Now, the waiting game started.

 

*

 

It was nearing the morning judging by the cramps in his legs, when Tom started to take down the wards on his door. He did it silently, but Harry felt them give out, propped as he was in the corner, next to the door. Finally, he was through and the door opened silently.

 

Knowing that Tom couldn’t see him in the shadows, disillusioned Harry permitted himself a moment to bask in the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could hear Tom’s whispered _‘Imperio’_ and the spell taking effect on his pillow artfully transfigured, if Harry could say so himself, in a human shaped mannequin with ruffled hair. The moment the spell connected Tom would know he wasn’t actually in there and he would lose the advantage of surprise.

 

He touched softly his wand to his head and dropped his disillusion. “Bravo,” Harry said walking out of darkness, “you Imperio’d a pillow.”

 

“Potter,” Tom said twirling toward him. “ _Imperio._ ”

 

Harry felt a sudden desire to obey, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as it could be. Somehow, the difference was jarring enough that he could throw the curse almost immediately. He smiled. By some miracle, everything was going according to plan.

 

“That had about the same effect as the pillow curse. Now, turn about is fair play,” Harry winked. “ _Imperio_.”

 

Tom’s face showed one moment of surprise and fear, before turning blank.

 

“Now, bow and say ‘I shouldn’t have doubted Harry Potter’.”

 

Tom bowed. He spoke ‘I’ before he frowned and paused. ‘Shouldn’t’ was out before he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. When they made eye contact again, Tom’s face was no longer blank. It was angry and fearful. None of which gave Harry much pride.

 

Harry clapped. “Good. You can resist it, too,” he said with delight.

 

“Though,” Tom pulled himself together with obvious effort, “not quite as well as you.” He finished in the polished voice, obviously studying him.

 

“I hate that voice,” Harry said it so it would be said. “As for the other, like with most things, it takes practice,” he shrugged with one shoulder. “Are you going with a _Crucio_ next?”

 

“I was,” Tom said finally dropping the polish and ending up with precise, clear cut syllables. What do you know? All he had to do was ask. “I’m not so sure, anymore,” he continued.

 

“Want a hint that I can cast it?” asked Harry. Tom’s head tilt was all the answer he needed. “It has to hate, not anger. Pure, sickening, cloying your muscles hatred.”

 

“So you can cast it. What now? I don’t suppose you can resist the killing curse.”

 

“I wouldn’t bet any money on that,” Harry chuckled when he saw Tom’s incredulous face. “It’s a long story. Listen, if you open the chamber again someone will die. I don’t know if that’s what you intended or not, but one thing the basilisk is not, is subtle. They will close the school. Our home.”

 

“How can Hogwarts be your home when you only just got here?” Tom spit the question, thinking he was being manipulated.

 

“Am I really behaving like someone who doesn’t know the school?” he asked knowing the answer. It was really laughable how bad an actor he was, if he even bothered to act. “No, I just don’t know it in this time. I’m from the future and from another universe.” Harry knew he was saying the right thing by a thoughtful line that appeared in between Tom’s brows. “You scared them so much that they brought me here just so I can help. And I am saying,” Harry enunciated his words, “they will close the school. You won’t be allowed to stay here for the duration.”  

 

Tom seemed thoughtful. “I heard of such spells, but they are usually centered on an object, not a person. What do you have?” 

 

Obviously, the selling point was proving he was from another universe.

 

Harry pushed his sleeve up. “I have many things. But what may interest you, is a scar.” He showed his arm to Tom.

 

“Is that what I think it is?”

 

He pushed the sleeve down, holding his wand at ready. “If you think that’s a goodbye present form your lovely pet, then yes, it’s what you think it is.”

 

Tom seemed a lot less doubtful and lot more tense, “Goodbye?”

 

“Sword through the roof of his mouth. I know I don’t get points for style or anything, but come on. I was twelve after all.”

 

“Basilisk’s fangs are poisonous,” Tom was grasping at straws.

 

“And that is all the information I am willing to share until you listen to my proposal,” this time Harry waited for a verbal response.

 

Finally, Tom sighed. “I will listen.”

 

“Right now, we’re pretty close in strength. I know a couple of tricks, you know a couple of tricks, enough to make sure we are both well and truly dead,” Harry offered a quick smile to Tom’s reluctant nod. “We can either destroy one another, or let stalemate stand and try being friends.”

 

Tom snorted with derision, “Friends?”

 

Harry’s voice turned cold, “Friends. Not allies, not partners and certainly not blind followers. It will be an opportunity for you to learn something new.”

 

“You do realize that this is not a subject that can be discussed between two people who already tried to curse one another?” Tom explained it like he would a child.

 

“What’s an Imperius between friends?” Harry stopped when Tom involuntary released a bark of laughter. He could not have said who was more surprised by that, Tom or him. “Scared?” he whispered, knowing that it would seal the deal.

 

“You wish,” Tom unwittingly echoed him. He offered his arm for Harry to shake. And, after murmuring a spell to protect the skin of his hand, Harry did.

 

Sure enough, a noxious green smoke rose from where Harry’s spell counteracted the poison. He had to remember to thank Hermione for that one. “Great, now that we know just how sincere we are, why don’t we swear on our wands?”

 

Tom briefly closed his eyes. He said, “Together?”

 

Harry nodded. “I swear on my wand that I will try to be his friend?”

 

Briefly analyzing the wording, Tom gave his own nod.

 

“I swear on my wand that I will try to be Harry Potter’s friend.”

 

“I swear on my wand that I will try to be Tom Riddle’s friend.”

 

After a few minutes of intense staring, Harry broke first, “Breakfast?”

 

Tom snorted. He stopped Harry before he could turn, “How did you escape being bitten by a basilisk?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “Honestly, dumb luck. Had a phoenix nearby.”

 

“Phoenix’ tears, of course,” Tom said with pathos, like he considered it a personal failing that he hadn’t realized.

 

“Hey, so how much should I worry about your little admirers?” Harry asked.

 

Tom lips curved just the tiniest bit, “Scared, Potter?”

 

“Terrified,” Harry answered with humor underling his words.

 

He was rewarded with the barest deepening at the corners of Tom’s mouth. Right now, it was better than a laugh.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue!
> 
> Update: 26th Feb at the latest. 
> 
> Thank you all for your support (kudos, comments and bookmarks).

At breakfast, Harry was thankful that he had robes that could repel minor curses and jinxes. Since he had sat down next to Tom, again, without the influence of the teachers, some of Tom’s ‘friends’ were suddenly fearful of losing his attention. Especially a seventh year girl, Druella Rosier, future mother of Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda, who had apparently sat in Harry’s spot before, had already tried two or three minor hexes.

 

Tom smirked when he saw the forth being repelled. He put up a silencing spell around them. It also worked as a minor ward. The flunkies weren’t happy, but were too obedient to say anything. Harry shook his head.

 

“I swear, I don’t know how only one of her daughters ended up a shrew,” Harry said when he saw Tom looking.

 

“How many did she have?” Tom asked off-handedly. Good, he was already getting used to the whole universe-traveling thing.

 

“Three.”

 

“That’s quite a good number assuming she married a pure-blood,” Tom looked toward him for confirmation. “It wasn’t me, was it?” He threw the girl a glance.

 

“She did, Cygnus. Black. As for her daughters... Well, one of them, a shrew. The other, a surprisingly good mother. And the last one married a muggle. She is pretty awesome.” Harry smiled and took a drink in the face of Tom’s scandalized look. “And you are not pure-blood.”

 

Tom’s eyes narrowed, “You knew my parents?”

 

“I knew of them. I’m sorry about your mother,” Harry said quietly.

 

Tom gave a small grimace and Harry grimaced back, before Tom started again with the pretty words. He understood all about tough sentences and the ambivalence those caused. It happened to Harry when someone said he had his mother’s eyes; he didn’t know her so what can he respond? Thank you? Still, he appreciated the fact that his eyes were so alike his mother’s that it prompted people to tell him that. That’s why he had said that to Tom, he wanted Tom to know that he was sincerely sorry, but he didn’t want to force him to respond.  

 

Harry realized something. “You don’t seem surprised to hear you’re a half-blood.”

 

“So my mother was a witch.” Tom seemed amazed.

 

Harry didn’t understand. It apparently showed on his face because Tom explained.

 

“Pure-blood families have ways of detecting family members. If I had been one, considering the fact that I am not a squib and that three is a large number of children for pure-blood parents, they would have surely found me. As to my mother… ”

 

Harry remembered little Tom in the orphanage saying that she couldn’t have been a witch. “You didn’t know why she died if she was witch.” There were silent for a couple of minutes. “Sometimes,” Harry remembered the train station and his mixed feelings about what he chose, “people just give up.”

 

Tom watched him. “And you? Are you the kind of person who gives up?”

 

“No. Not even when I should.” Harry smiled sadly. “And I know you don’t either. No matter the cost.”

 

Suddenly, Tom put his fork down, “I take it you think the cost I paid was too steep.”

 

“Yes, I do,” Harry declared.

 

Tom nodded and picked up his fork again as if nothing had happened. “You seem to have a very loving view on muggles.”

 

“They are good and bad,” Harry shrugged, overly simplifying the issue. “I grew up with mom’s muggle sister. She was married with a son.”

 

“Those are the bad muggles, right?” Tom was watching Harry from the corner of his eye.

 

Harry frowned.

 

“I grew up with the people at the orphanage,” said Tom as an explanation.

 

‘But who raised you?’ The question came to Harry immediately and he understood where Tom got his true opinion of Harry’s family. Harry gave a chuckle.

 

“Right,” he said coming back to Tom’s question. “But I have this brilliant friend. And her parents were muggle, too.” Harry briefly remembered how she had been forced to _Oblivate_ them. He shook his head to dispel the memory. Hermione will find them and restore their memory. She wouldn’t allow it to happen any other way.

 

“Did something happen to them?”

 

Harry couldn’t meet Tom’s eye. For a long he just looked at his plate and ate. Finally, he did. “When they were in danger, she _oblivated_ them - the fact that they ever had a daughter - out of their memories, so they couldn’t be tortured for information. And, I suppose so they wouldn’t worry. Though I know that wasn’t her primary concern.”  

 

They both looked down at their plates for a few minutes. When another spell struck the shield, Harry rolled his eyes. Tom seemed to want to comment, when a movement caught his attention. His gaze turned calculating. Harry turned to see who the target of Tom’s latest schemes was.

 

His eyes landed on a weirdly young Hagrid exited the Great Hall. No. “Don’t even think about it.”

 

One of Tom’s eyebrows rose, “I have a feeling I already have.”

 

“Not anymore.” Harry stood to follow Hagrid.

 

“Potter,” Tom stopped him. “What was the price?”

 

It took Harry a couple of moments to understand. Ah, Tom was talking about the price that he supposedly paid. “Your sanity,” Harry said and accepting Tom’s odd expression as much a reaction as he could have hoped, he turned towards the door.

 

“Harry.”

 

Only the fact that Tom called him by his first name stopped Harry from rolling his eyes. In fact, it pretty much stopped him completely. He faced Tom, amazed. “Yes?”

 

“Your friend is very strong,” Tom declared with quiet solemnity.     

 

Harry, while speechless, felt one cheek-hurting grin take over his face. Did the future Dark Lord just compliment Hermione? Did he just heap praise on a muggle-born witch, no matter how smart, courageous, strong and special she was? Yes, he did. What was there not to smile about? “Yes, she is,” he said before hurring out.  

 

Professor Dumbledore appeared in front of him making him huff in frustration. “Mr. Potter, I have to discuss your schedule with you.” He gestured towards a parchment.

 

Harry watched his hand flutter about for a bit. His hand darted out, catching the parchment mid-motion. “Thank you, Professor. I prefer to discuss it with Professor Slughorn. Who is the head of Slytherin. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks? And in class, of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, sir.”  

 

He finally managed to get out of the Great Hall, with a final look towards a stunned Dumbledore and a pleased looking Tom smirking at the professor. Harry rolled his eyes, and went out. Let them settle it between them, he had a half-giant to find.

 

Harry tried outside. And there he was, heading towards the Forbidden Forest. Harry started running.

 

“Hey,” he called out. “Hagrid. Wait a bit.”

 

Hagrid stopped, looking a bit apprehensive.

 

“Hi. I’m Harry Potter. I don’t know how long I’ll be here for, but let me say this. You’ll be a great man. Truly. But you’d have more chances to be one if you didn’t keep a creature that frightens people in the school,” he said as concise as possible. All Harry wanted was to befriend him, get to know him as a young boy. But he didn’t know how long he’d been staying here for and he didn’t want to frighten him.

 

Hagrid’s eyes widened in the beginning, but soon they found the frosted and dying grass very interesting. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

 

“Of course not. I am not talking about a itty bitty spider,” Harry laughed.

 

Hagrid’s entire demeanor turned frightful and, at the same time, hopeful. “You won’t tell everybody?”

 

“No, no, no,” Harry said shaking his head. “I know he’s not responsible. Just get him out of the castle, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Hagrid mumbled. “Thank you,” he said louder.

 

Harry smiled. “Take care. Come to me for whatever,” he clapped Hagrid on the shoulder before heading towards school.

 

*

 

Harry had spent his week doing nothing more than trying to swim his way to the surface of what was the curriculum of 1943. Added to that, he had forgotten how overwhelming the first week of school was. He was currently walking around on the first floor, seeing as he was not yet welcome in the common room, when he heard voices. Again.

 

“Masssster. The masssster needs help. Help. Masssster,” the voice of the basilisk hissed as it went by.

 

It was different kinds of worrying every time he heard that voice, Harry thought as he ran as fast as he could, the first time it was saying ‘murder’ over and over. Sometimes, intersperse with ‘blood’. That was pretty damn serious. This time, Tom needed help. Tom Riddle, needing help. That was urgent in and of itself. When his foot hit last the step, he forced himself to slow down. With the wand already in his hand, he walked forward.

 

He saw Tom focusing on a patch of wall, feeding a spell into it. “Tom?”

 

Tom’s head turned towards him. “The school wards are failing. It started here. I… don’t know why,” his voice was straining. “We need help. Go!”

 

“Like hell I will.” Harry concentrated on the professors, the receivers of the message and on the vision of his parents, Sirius and Remus from the night he sacrificed himself. “ _Expecto patronum_ ,” he said quietly. When the stag made his majestic appearance, Tom startled and Harry gave him a funny look. “The school wards are failing. Second floor,” he addressed the stag. Facing the wall again, “ _Protego maxima_.”  

 

“What do we do now? Hold?” asked Tom faintly.

 

Harry tried to pour more power into the spell so Tom would catch a break. He confirmed, “We hold.”  He saw the exhausted way in which Tom held himself. “How long have you been here? Never mind. Don’t answer that. I’m not sure you can, at the moment. Help should come soon. If it doesn’t, I know a trick with the suits of armor. It’s a one time thing so we only have to use it as a last resort,” Harry kept talking, keeping Tom relatively alert.

 

He got close enough to bump his shoulder against him, because Tom had taken the wards on himself and was still standing tall. He deserved all the congratulations Harry could give. He was just providing the bandage to Tom’s keeping the wound closed. Tom bumped his shoulder back to convey his gratitude.

 

A patch of something, lined in gold appeared where they where aiming their wands, which must’ve been the hole in the wards. Harry couldn’t tell if it was growing bigger or if they had any effect on it.

 

Tom sighed in what sounded like relief, tension flying from his shoulders. “It’s working.” That answered Harry’s silent question. Tom frowned. “Our magic must be highly compatible to work so well. Or…,” he blinked slowly a couple of time, “I’ll just think about it later.”

 

Harry smiled in sympathy. Even though the hole was filling even as he looked, Tom’s job wouldn’t be easy until he let the wards stand on their own. He did what he could, following Tom’s logic and giving voice to the thoughts that he couldn’t. “Or I could have a lot of practice at keeping our magic together.”

 

Tom gave the impression that he was trying to smile and kept his face firmly at the wall. Probably so he wouldn’t appear grateful or happy for Harry’s help. It was useless of course, because Harry could tell from Tom’s profile anyway. The teachers could be heard nearing them at a run. They had undoubtedly seen the damage done to the wards, but they couldn’t do anything from their position. Maybe when the hole had been bigger, but now it required great aim and none of them wanted to hit the students who actually held the wards. 

 

“I imagine it’s the latter,” Tom said quietly as the last of the hole sealed itself.   

 

Harry shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

 

Tom let the go of wards. He slumped a bit, wearily, against Harry. It was kind of awkward, Tom being taller than Harry and all, but Harry couldn’t refuse Tom when he looked so damn exhausted. Neither of them said anything about it and Tom continued the conversation as if nothing of importance was taking place. “Truly?” he asked doubtfully.

 

“Mostly true,” Harry said noncommittally.   

 

The professors had arrived. First Dippet, then Dumbledore, then a young-ish Flitwick. There were a few professors after that, but he didn’t get a chance to tell which. They immediately started the questions. How, what, where and Tom was leaning heavier on him. Harry had a feeling that Tom was adverse to showing weakness in front of others, though give him five more minutes and there would be no hiding it. What to do? Well, Harry’s reputation was shot anyway.

 

“Do you mind? That spell took a lot out of me. And I’m still weakened by the first week of school. We’ll come to the Headmaster’s office tomorrow,” Harry said putting an arm around Tom as if to support himself.

 

Dippet was already nodding, thinking the reason Harry was suffering so much was the transference spell. “Yes, yes. We’ll take care of things here. You should go to the hospital wing, of course, Mr. Potter. Tom, would you be so kind as to take him? I hate to impose on you again but –”  

 

“It’s quite alright professor,” Tom answered dutifully. “Come, Potter. Easy.”

 

As soon as they were out of hearing range, Harry asked, “Hospital wing or the dungeons?”

 

“The dungeons,” Tom replied tiredly, leaning on Harry.

 

It took some maneuvering, but he finally got Tom in his bedroom. Thankfully, it was late enough that they were largely ignored by the people immersed themselves in homework. They would clearly lose that interest over the years or it was just Harry’s year that was just waiting for a distraction, any distraction. Oh, who was he kidding? Everybody was watching them. Some of them weren’t even subtle about it. Slytherin, his ass.

 

“We’ll be drunk by the time we reach our bedrooms. By tomorrow we’ll be together,” Tom said dryly.

 

Harry frowned, making Tom roll his eyes. “Gossip, Potter. Harry, since we are so close.”

 

Finally the coin dropped. “Why assume we are together? Couldn’t you have your pick of Hogwarts’ students? Why would you choose a coward orphan?”

 

“I wouldn’t.” Tom smirked. “I would, however, choose the pretty boy with the Slytherin green eyes and mysterious past.”

 

Thinking about it made Harry drown in confusion, so he adopted an injured air and said, “Hey! I called you handsome.” He looked down the long corridor. “Which one is yours?”

 

“I can take it from here, Harry. See you in the morning,” Tom said shuffling down the hall before entering a bedroom.

 

Harry entered his own room and mentally revised what Tom had implied. Could he do it? It wasn’t like Tom was unattractive. And there was a certain gentleness with which he saw him as a young man, like it was his chance to protect Tom from himself. Like he was at precisely the right time to get him to laugh, enjoy himself and not confirm Dumbledore’s suspicions.   

 

He had long ago reached the conclusion that he thought Ginny weaker than him. Why else would he leave her? That wasn’t fair to Ginny or her fiery temper. He just, he couldn’t get the image of her, eleven years old and too still, out of his head and that wasn’t the basis to build a relationship on. He couldn’t be the guy who only saw her as a victim, someone who needed saving, when she had grown so much and lived though a lot more. But, he guessed he knew her for too long or something.

 

Those, the memories where she was in love with him, when she was a victim, were the things that he had happened when all was good, still. When, at the end of the day, only the bad guy was hurt. It the last years, it was all death and running. Other memories were not as well-defined as that. He knew of the deep attachment he felt towards Hermione and Ron, then again they were there from the start, he remembered Cedric, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred and many others but then they were dead and he felt thankful to all of them, Neville, Luna, Ginny at the top of the list. It felt wrong somehow, to start a relationship with someone that had been there for him every time, but he had only noticed when she needed help or he needed it and at the same time something else awful happened so he was distracted.  

 

No, there was no one waiting for him back home. But did that mean he felt ready to accept what? A relationship with Tom? Was Tom really the type to have relationships with other people? What would it even mean? What are the rules to such a thing, because Harry was mostly without any experience in that department? He tiredly decided he would play this one by ear and would go with what felt right. What was it that he said once? They make a plan, they get there and everything goes to hell. This time Harry was without a plan.  

 

Morning came and Harry collected Tom before going to the headmaster’s office. While Tom looked was as put together as ever, the pinched lines around his eyes spoke of a lasting tiredness.

 

“How about we go to the kitchens, grab something to eat?” Harry tried with all tact that he didn’t, in fact, posses.

 

At least Tom seemed to think so, if his raised eyebrow was any indicator. “Sure, if you know how to get in.”

 

“I do.”

 

Tom led the way to the fruit painting where he stood to the side observing Harry curiously. He rolled his eyes when he saw ‘the password’. “Tickling the pear?!”

 

Harry gave him a questioning glance while he opened the door.

 

“I even tried reciting the school hymn,” Tom complained. When Harry tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile, Tom said, exasperated, “It’s Hogwarts.”

 

At that, Harry could only tilt his head in acknowledgement.

 

After they got mobbed by the house elves and attacked with food, they finally got to the headmaster’s office. Of course, Dumbledore just happens to be there snooping or, worse, advising. And, naturally, all his questions made it seem like it was Tom’s fault. Dippet started the meeting by inviting Tom to tell what happened in his words.

 

“I was walking by the second floor, when I –” started Tom, but Dumbledore shifting interrupted him, “sorry sir, did wanted to say something?”

 

“I was wondering what you were doing at that particular floor,” Dumbledore said, not at all suspiciously. Right.

 

“I was walking by it,” deadpanned Tom.

 

Harry managed to smother his chuckle in time, but Headmaster Dippet was not so lucky. As such they were treated to weirdly chuckle-sounding cough. Dumbledore’s twinkle abated.

 

“As I was saying,” Tom continued, “I was going by when I noticed sparks flying through the air, like somebody had broken a window from inside. Luckily, I happen to know the spell to hold the wards. Before you ask, sir, I read in ‘Hogwarts: A History’.” Tom was obviously addressing Dumbledore with the last one proving once again what a little wanker he really was. “I sustained it for about half an hour, making sure no more holes appeared, until Harry showed up.”

 

“Merlin’s beard,” Dipped said, amazed, “you held the entirety of the wards, by yourself for half an hour. This deserves a trophy, certainly, for services brought to the school.”

 

“If you think that’s right,” Tom feigned modesty. 

 

“It’ll be done. And for you, Mr. Potter. Though you will have to be satisfied with a badge I’m afraid,” Dipped looked regretful.

 

“That will be no problem, Headmaster,” Harry said.

 

“And what were you doing on the second floor, Mr. Potter?” asked Dumbledore.

 

Harry shrugged. “Just walking around.”

 

“A smidge strange,” Dumbledore observed, “that you both ended up on the same floor.”

 

“I’d say it was lucky. It’s not like Tom could have telegraphed his location,” argued Harry.

 

“Terribly lucky,” confirmed Dippet.

 

But Dumbledore ignored him and continued his inquisition, “Why couldn’t Mr. Riddle perform a patronus? He has the knowledge and he certainly has the power.”

 

Tom’s jaw tightened just a fraction. “I can’t,” he said nonetheless.

 

“Why, Mr. Riddle?” Dumbledore pressed the issue.

 

Harry was disgusted with Dumbledore’s attempts to make Tom’s actions seem suspicious. Harry knew Tom had been visiting the Chamber of Secrets, but there was no proof that he had let the basilisk out. And he had shouldered the wards without a second thought. Sure, he had done that for himself, because the school was his home, but that shouldn’t make it any less amazing. He certainly didn’t deserve to be treated like the world’s greatest liar.

 

“I’ll teach him,” Harry volunteered wanting to close the subject.

 

“Very good,” murmured Dippet. “Well, thank you for coming.” It was clear he wanted to skip the part where they asked him about his knowledge of certain spells that should’ve been kept secret.

 

Tom, on the other hand, had another problem, “What about whomever it was that made the hole in the first place?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, already knowing there were not going to tell them anything. Tom saw him and gave a questioning glance. Harry shook his head, mouthed ‘later’.

 

“That is no longer your concern, Mr. Riddle,” Dumbledore said in a patronizing voice. 

 

Harry nodded and got up. “Good morning, Headmaster. Professor.” The he shooed Tom ahead of him through the door.

 

Tom was spitting mad after they stepped out of the staircase. Harry was glad that Tom was showing his real emotions, he was just hoping for more positive ones in the future.

 

“They weren’t going to tell us anything. They never do. We can only do research ourselves and wait for something else to happen,” Harry said preemptively. He was not about to get Avada Kedavra’d by the same guy thrice. “And something else always happens.”

 

Tom huffed angrily, shaking his head. “That sounds remarkably like bitter experience.”

 

“That’s because it is. Anyway,” Harry said, “what is the matter with the patronus spell?”

 

Lifting one shoulder in a graceful shrug, Tom said, “Can’t find a happy enough memory.”

 

Harry nodded. “I had the same problem.” He ignored the startled expression on Tom’s face. “Imagination works just as well. We’ll figure something out. I mean, if you want me there.”

 

“Let’s leave it for the weekend,” Tom said while walking towards class. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine.
> 
> Update: 28th Feb, at the latest.
> 
> Thank you for all your support (kudos, comment, bookmarks).

 

Harry was amazed how little things actually changed for him. He entered this routine without thinking and he was caught. He still had nightmares, sometimes the food didn’t seem all that appetizing and there were people who hated his guts. Except for the last year, which he didn’t like to think about, things were the same. Sure, he had different people around, he was in a different time and he was hated for different reasons, but other than that, and those seemed like minor details, everything was the same. It was the same atmosphere.

 

He had things to say to a few people – some he wanted to thank, others to congratulate – and he missed his friends, the family he had made for himself. Their loss was just added to the grief that so many other people passing away had left. He couldn’t really differentiate between the two, though in the case of the people still surviving in the other universe he was the one that left. Everything was intertwined and he could only handle so much grieving before he buckled underneath it. So he was taking it one day at a time and the loss bundled up, making it manageable.

 

This day, for example, he was having a discussion with Tom as they were heading to DADA classroom about his preferred drink for breakfast. Tom was against the pumpkin juice.

 

“What’s so wrong with it?” Harry asked exasperated.

 

“It has no substance that actually awakens you,” Tom kept explaining.

 

Harry shrugged, “Maybe I don’t need any.”

 

Tom just gave him a look.

 

“Fine. Maybe I just like it. And anyway, what would you suggest?”

 

“Coffee,” answered Tom like that was the only response a sane person would give.

 

Harry made a face. “I just can’t imagine drinking something hot from a goblet.”

 

Tom rolled his eyes. “You can ask for a mug, if that’s what you want.”

 

“Who exactly do I ask for it?” Harry wanted to know.

 

“The kitchen elves.”

 

“And how do they know where I sit?” Harry asked a bit disturbed.

 

“They know everything,” Tom said.

 

Harry and Tom exchanged glances. They both looked suspiciously around. Damn all seeing, all hearing and all knowing elves. It was creepy. “I feel watched,” Harry pronounced.

 

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Riddle you have the most interesting conversations,” said delightedly the teacher, Professor Rootenhaus as he was walking in. He was an elderly man who was especially happy when his students were entertainingly crazy.

 

“Thank you, sir,” they answered in a chorus.

 

Harry winked at the other students who gave him venomous glares, having gotten used to their ‘special’ attention.

 

“That’s enough of that.” Rootenhaus, as usual, was aware of all that was happening in his classroom. “Why don’t I put an end to all the glaring, hm?” He twirled around with a speed that seemed at odds with his age. “A duel,” he whispered.

 

Harry shrugged and rose, “With whom?”

 

“Why, with Mr. Riddle, of course,” Rootenhaus cackled.

 

Harry looked at Tom, who smirked, and mock shuddered. “Oh no, what will I do?”

 

“I’ll protect you, Harry,” Tom declared with the same amount of drama.

 

Harry took his place and faced Tom grinning like a loon. “I think you’re the one supposed to do the damage.”

 

“Never to that face,” Tom said stoically.

 

“Promises, promises,” Harry sighed.  

 

“I think Potter will last three seconds,” stage whispered Druella.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “Say Tom, can you wait for three seconds?”

 

“Want to exceed expectations?” Tom asks sweetly.

 

Harry’s arms opened wide, “Always.”

 

Tom, naturally, moved first. Without saying a word, without making giving any outwards signs that he was going to attack, a yellow spell sped towards Harry. Unfortunately for Tom, Harry wasn’t where he was supposed to be and it passed him by about two fingers. Tom’s eyes widened when he saw Harry had moved and they made eye contact. Harry smirked and a silence descended on the class.

 

“Oh dear,” Rootenhaus chuckled gleefully. He decided to throw a dueler’s shield on the two. It was a solid blue, shaped like a bell and after a second it became transparent again in order to allow the class to observe.

 

It was on. Both of them were turning, ducking and changing wand hands so they could shoot spells the other wouldn’t expect. Harry sent a spell towards Tom which was supposed to make his body believe it was a bird and try to fly off, but Tom braced a foot on a nearby desk and, making the floor icy with a flick of his wand, he pushed himself to the side. Sliding, he aimed a spell at Harry. One that Harry was able to recognize, due to the color, purple with white sparks. It didn’t have any effect on Harry, who had already jumped over it, but it did have on the floor. Every time a new person touched it would transfigure them in wood figurines.

 

Harry caught himself on two desks, balancing himself on a rope which he had just conjured at the last possible moment. He vaulted over the left side desk, ducking under a flesh colored spell and releasing another which was supposed to make the floor stone. Of course, all it did was neutralize Tom’s earlier spell and Harry jumped, taking the advantage of the higher ground to try a _Stupefy_.

 

As Harry had predicted, Tom suspected the _Stupefy_ was too easy a spell and he had retreated behind the teachers’ desk, which Harry had already turned into a bear. In the meantime, Harry had his own problems, because apparently, Tom had spelled a snake invisible and Harry had a tough time aiming a _Finite Maximus_ at it. They were both busy with their respective animal, both firing spells so fast their wands had become blurs of multicolored lights.  

 

Finally, they lost their patience and Tom set the bear on fire, with something stronger than _Incendio_ , but less out of control than a Fiend Fire. Harry simply blew off a part of the floor with _Bombarda Maxima._

 

“Nice, Harry. Very elegant,” said Tom a bit breathlessly.

 

Harry rolled his eyes, while leaning against the wall, “At least I didn’t burn it in a room with full of kindling.”

 

Tom shrugged. Harry tilted his head.

 

They were at it, again. Tom was reinventing the rainbow at the tip of his wand complete with sparks, hand holding his wand loose but sure, when Harry got the brilliant idea of a way of disarming him. He threw a spell at Tom, didn’t wait to see if it landed and run towards him.

 

“Tom!” shouted Druella.

 

Tom was just focusing on him from where he had been distracted by ducking underneath the spell, when Harry dropped down, one leg forward, slid under Tom’s incoming spell, jumped to his feet, grabbing Tom’s arm in a loose hold and using the other to take his wand.

 

Both wands in his hands, pointing at Tom’s heart, he said triumphantly, “Do you acknowledge that this time I win?”

 

“I do.” Tom was surprisingly not upset; he seemed rather pleased with the duel. His face was totally transformed by the smile that was gracing his handsome features. Harry couldn’t help but smile back. He also noticed that Tom’s eyes were actually gray and were now brightened by the adrenaline and the constant moving around. “Next time, Harry.”

 

Harry’s smile widened, “Promises, promises.”

 

“Good job, Mr. Riddle. Congratulations, Mr. Potter. I guess, we have a winner, folks,” said Rootenhaus. There was a shot of crazed laugh, which was ignored by everyone because it could only come from Rootenhaus, the blue shield could be seen again, before disappearing.

 

Harry was just about to give Tom his wand back, when suddenly Tom turned him, making him thump against his chest, losing his bearings for a moment. When he saw Tom’s arm, grabbing a hold of both wands, aiming for Druella who had her own wand out, he let go a bit, letting Tom use whatever spell he pleased.

 

“ _Incarcerous._ ”

 

Only, that wasn’t what the spell did. Normal ropes did not appear, but rather her feet were swallowed by the floor and her body was wrapped tight in the wood and metal that comprised her desk and chair.

 

“What just happened?” asked Harry from his cozy spot in Tom’s embrace.

 

“It appears you two have awakened an old and powerful piece of magic,” Rootenhaus said. He looked close to expiring from sheer pleasure. “A bond of wands.”

 

Harry was unimpressed. “What else is new?” He had a feeling Tom was making an inquiring sort of face, which is why he added, “You get used to it.”

 

Rootenhaus let go of an insane chortle. Everyone ignored him, as usual.

 

*

Druella got a month of detentions and they got dragged to the Headmaster. Again. And Dumbledore was there. Again.

 

“Doesn’t he have classes to teach?” mumbled Harry irritated.

 

Tom, the only one who heard him, said quietly, “You have got to tell me what you have against him.”

 

Harry blinked. He was rather surprised at that. “I don’t have anything against him.” There was so much and, at the same time, so little that he felt he could really judge him for that he simply couldn’t decide. He, at least, had thought he hadn’t decided. Only, apparently he had been acted hostile towards his former headmaster. Harry sighed.  

 

Tom glanced at him and Harry responded by shrugging, hoping his ambivalence on the matter could somehow be read on his face. 

 

“This bond was not seen in quite some time, so you have to be grateful,” started Dippet proudly. He went on to explain that they could transfer power between them now, without wand contact, that if the bond was especially powerful they could even feel the other’s emotions, that everything was pink and smelled of roses.

 

Harry’s lips thinned, “Can I still go back?”

 

Dippet exchanged a look with Dumbledore, but it was Tom who casually answered. “I don’t see why not. Like any bond it takes time, closeness and, because this is a wand bond, taking part in dangerous events to develop. So much so that by the time it reaches the phase where you’ll know my emotions and vice versa, you should be able to tell what I’m feeling anyway.”

 

Harry nodded, accepting it. The response was comprehensive and it didn’t surprise him in the least that Tom was informed on obscure, rarely seen before wand bonds.

 

Dumbledore started to open his mouth. Harry got there first, “He knows everything, sir, he’s Tom Riddle, there’s really no use to question it.” A pause. “He’s not wrong, is he?”

 

Dippet and Dumbledore had a silent conversation. Dippet said, “No he is not. But, why would you want to return, Mr. Potter? You have friends, here.”

 

“Friends that know you are visiting. Even though they shouldn’t,” added Dumbledore with a mischievous twinkle.

 

“Even though you think they shouldn’t, sir,” said Harry brightly.

 

“Anyway,” continued Dippet, “my point is that we’ve done everything our power to make you feel welcome.”

 

“And I did my part of the deal. Your part was to send me back,” challenged Harry.

 

Dippet lowered his eyes. “We can’t.”

 

Harry had never felt rage conquer him so fast and completely before. “I beg your pardon?”

 

Tom was startled into watching him. He frowned slightly.    

 

“There was no need for such a spell to be invented. The very fact that you are here is a bit of a miracle. Or, to be more precise, a feat of creative thinking. You were in possession of an object which needed its wielder in order to function and the spell took both of you. But there was no need to invent a spell which would allow people to return the objects. It would be contra intuitive,” explained Dumbledore.

 

Harry slowly closed his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to invent it,” he said though his clenched teeth. He stood and made for the door.   

 

Dumbledore moved in front of him, “If I could have a word, Mr. Potter.”

 

Harry jaw was starting to hurt, but he waited.

 

“A minute, if you please,” said Dumbledore watching Tom’s exit. Harry started to breathe deeply.

 

“Please consider, Mr. Potter, in whom in place your trust. Surely, there are more appropriate students in this school. Mr. Riddle, while very charming, is perhaps not the best candidate to put your trust in,” Dumbledore advised quietly.

 

Harry took one last deep breath, managing to say calmly, though icily, “I guess you better give that creative thinking another try and send me back.” He glared at Dumbledore for a couple of seconds and his wand hand twitched. He added, “Sir.”

 

Dumbledore disapproved. “I understand that you are upset, but you have to be able to see beyond that.”

 

Harry simply watched him. He imagined the look when his face when the timer spell wore off and he discovered his robes were a subdued beige. “Goodbye sir.”

 

He was half-way down the stairs when he heard Dippet laugh. Harry smirked.

 

Tom was waiting for him. “What did you do?” he asked curiously.

 

“Turned his robes beige,” Harry deadpanned.

 

A burst of laughter was ripped out of Tom’s throat. It looked like it had hurt. Still, progress.

 

“And, before?” Tom was acting like the laughter hadn’t happened. Small steps.

 

“Warned me not to trust the enemy,” Harry snorted. “Like he’s not the expert on that. Your intentions are still up for grabs, which is more than I can say about his lover. ”

 

“Seriously?” Tom had never sounded more like a teenager than at that moment. “Grindelwald?” he whispered gleefully. He seemed to realize at some point how truly childish he was behaving, but he seemed to come to some sort of conclusion and shrugged it off, coming even closer to Harry.

 

Harry grinned. “Seriously. Did they have their famous duel already?”  

 

“Yes. A couple of years ago. He is said to have been the Greatest Dark Lord that has ever lived.”

 

Tom was gossiping. Harry could barely believe it.

 

He felt the sudden urge to smile. “They say that about all of them. Until the next one comes along.”

 

“Am I to understand that yours was darker?” Tom asked doubtfully.

 

“Mine?” Harry chuckled.

 

“I know you came here for the Chamber of Secrets. For some reason you decided not to tell anybody, which I appreciate.” That was _not_ a thank you. “But you don’t sleep, you don’t eat and you duel like you went through a war. Since you’re a bit young to be a Dark Lord, I’m going to assume that fought him,” Tom was interrupted by Harry.

 

“I’m young?” said Harry incredulously. “That’s the best thing you can say about me?”

 

“That’s the worst thing I can say about you, Harry.” Tom’s lips quirked. “You fought him. Or her, I suppose. You won. The Greatest Dark Lord or Lady. And I don’t think you him or her left in a prison in Germany.”

 

“Him. And no, I didn’t.” Harry was afraid to say it. Especially to Tom. So, he did. “I killed him. But, he wasn’t all there anymore. He was insane.” Harry met Tom’s grey eyes without flinching.

 

Those eyes widened with surprise. Before he could ask if he was the wizard in question, Harry reminded him that it was Friday.

 

Tom frowned as he tried to remember why that was important. “Oh, why don’t we meet in the Room of Lost Things?”

 

Harry thought about it. He repeated the words silently. He snapped his fingers, “The Room of Requirement.” Tom made a face. “Same thing. Different name.”

 

*

 

“Why do we have a boggart?” Tom enquired.

 

“Because we need a dementor,” Harry answered.

 

Tom’s eyebrows crumpled in thought. His face lightened, “You’re scared of fear?” He rolled his eyes. “Naturally, you are.”

 

“Actually,” Harry said, “it’s the memories.”

 

Tom smiled slightly bitterly, “I would ask, but then I’d have to share, too.”

 

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “Okay, first, without the boggart. How solid a patronus can you do?”

 

Tom obviously wanted to look down, ashamed, but he was fighting it for whatever reason. A blush was working diligently, but slowly, at his cheeks. “I can’t even produce a mist.”

 

“That bad, huh? I suppose you tried all the usual. First time you did magic, first time on a broom, that sort of thing,” Harry looked towards Tom for confirmation.

 

“I never did see what the big deal was with the broom,” said Tom quietly.

 

Harry felt offended. “You’re doing it wrong, then.”

 

Tom raised a brow at Harry’s horrified tone. “Anyway, I tried with all firsts,” Tom leered at Harry, who gave his best unimpressed look though he was fighting a grin, “and all the victories.”

 

“What about imaging things? Like how it…” Harry fell silent. ‘Like how it would have felt to be in his mother’s embrace’ sounded cruel. As did all the other variants and permutations.

 

Tom was watching him and a bitter sweet smile was blooming on his handsome face. If Harry could find some way to make him understand the emotions… He only needed a baseline. Wait a second.

 

“Say Tom,” Harry stated. When Tom’s eyebrows went up, he realized this was the first time that he actually used a name for addressing him. It also happened to be his first name. He smiled at him. “How’s the legilimency coming along? Can you, perhaps, feel the emotions that have to do with a certain memory?”

 

“Yes…” Tom eyebrows gathered back over his eyes. For a few seconds he seemed not to know what to say. He seemed to settle on something. No, he was still thinking. Finally, he found it. “Are you crazy?”

 

Harry considered this. “Probably.”

 

“Are you that confident that your mental shields will hold?” said Tom with a hint of sneer.

 

“What mental shields?” Harry smirked at the relocation of Tom’s jaw about two centimeters lower. “I’m pants at the whole thing.”

 

Tom face became expressionless. Even his voice, when he spoke, was blank. “One would think you trust me.”

 

Did Harry trust Tom? “I guess I do.”

 

A lengthy silence took over the room. Tom seemed to search Harry’s face for any sign of deceit. Harry let him, knowing he’d never find anything, but that appeared to distress Tom more than anything. A comfy couch appeared suddenly in the room. Harry could feel his forehead crease, especially when Tom started herding him towards it with gentle hands. He called a house elf to ask for a goblet of pumpkin juice.

 

“Tom?” Harry half asked, half ordered.

 

Tom immediately stopped his minor fidgeting.

 

“It’s different, isn’t it?” Harry was pretty sure he was the first person to have anything resembling trust toward Tom, who should never know that it was pretty much a lack of caring from Harry’s part with regards towards his own safety. He didn’t think what he did qualified as full blown trust, but it was as close as Tom had ever gotten without manipulating anyone. “The responsibility. How does that feel?”

 

After a minute of silence Harry reckoned that Tom wouldn’t answer. But then, “Horrible. I don’t know how normal people do it.”

 

“I don’t think normal people do it. At least not at the same level as you. Don’t break my mind,” joking warned Harry.

 

“ _ _Legilimens_  _,” whispered Tom.

 

It didn’t come as a surprise for Harry that Tom didn’t break his mind. In fact he was very gentle. As the memories flew by, first of what he had imagined when he first created the patronus in Lupin’s then they kept going until they reached the night of the Battle, he felt light hearted and strong. The memories had a powerful flavor of bitter sweet hope.

 

Naturally, Tom dug more into memories of that night. Harry warned him away, but didn’t really put up any resistance. If Tom felt like he could see it, whatever it was, Harry was not about to stand in his way. Before retreating, Tom left him a souvenir.

 

“Who was that?” asked a shaken Tom.

 

“Patronus first, questions later. By the way, thank you for the shields,” Harry grinned.  

 

Tom shook off the gratitude, “No. Thank you.” For sharing, presumably. “ _Expecto patronum_ ,” he said in a stern voice.

 

When he produced nothing but mist, Harry simply said, “Try again.”

 

Under Harry’s annoying insistence, or calming patience as he pretended it was, Tom finally managed a corporal patronus.

 

Harry released a ‘Whoop’ when he saw it. He also realized he wasn’t sure what it was, “Wait. Is that a panther?”

 

“Leopard. A black one… or a white one, I suppose, as it is a patronus” Tom explained, seemingly a bit lost himself. The panther nudged his hand silently asking to be pet and Tom scratched it behind the ear obligingly. It purred a bit before disappearing.   

 

“That seems weirdly specific,” Harry said uncertainly.  

 

“I recognize him.” Fine, then. “He’s incredibly versatile and adaptable. He’s also a very sly predator. For example, the leopard in the savannah only hunts at night,” replied Tom. As if only realizing what he said he hurried up to cover it. “It swims, runs, climbs trees and eats everything from insects and reptiles to mammals.”

 

“It sounds like an animal version of you,” Harry hedged. He wanted to find out the reason for calling it a ‘he’.

 

“He sounds nothing like me. Granted though, he is the most Slytherin feline.” Tom was again using odd pronouns. And the arguments that managed to explain absolutely nothing. 

 

Harry nodded. “You know that doesn’t actually tell me anything.”

 

“You didn’t even tell yourself when you created the first successful patronus against that hoard of dementors,” Tom said knowledgably.

 

“Touché.” Harry laid himself back on his couch, wiggling a bit until he found the perfect position; on his belly with a hand folded under his head, and the other hanging off the couch. “What now?”

 

“Now is later,” Tom stated, in a fit of staring, showing off his deductive skills. “As such, it’s question time.” He finally tore his eyes away from Harry, rolling his eyes and plopped down on a couch of his own.

 

“Ask away.”

 

There was terse silence for long enough that Harry was starting to feel the need to lift his head and check up on him.

 

“The guy with red eyes and cloak, the one that Avada Kedavra’d you, he’s the Dark Lord?” Tom asked with some trepidation.

 

Harry smiled. “Yes.”

 

“Are you immortal?” Tom’s voice trembled slightly.

 

Harry sighed. “The guy killed himself. It was a whole thing,” he flapped the dangling hand. “He wasn’t right in the head anymore. I’m not immortal. Nobody is, in the end. Though not for lack of trying.”

 

“Is the guy me?” whispered Tom.

 

Harry thought about it. He propped himself on his elbows. “It’s difficult to say. He started off being you, then a lot of things happened and on the road between here and there, he… lost himself. You might still become him.”

 

“How do I become him?” Tom’s voice seemed to be just an echo. Soft and unreachable.

 

Harry at first didn’t know how to respond to that question, but he thought he might as well be honest. “I’m afraid to answer that, for now.”

 

Tom’s voice had a bit of humor in it. “Fair enough.” Harry shrugged helplessly, an apology in its own right. “Can you at least tell me if it comes down the family tree?”

 

“No, it’s not natural. At least, I don’t think it is. But it does start with family,” said Harry grimly.

 

“That’s a relief. And I suppose you must think I have some chance of retaining my sanity,” Tom paused, while Harry nodded his confirmation. Tom leaned forward, “You _are_ going to tell me where to find my birth father and any relatives I may have and _I’m going_ to see them over the holidays.” With none of the pressure he had said his earlier words, “Would you like to come with?”

 

“I will.” Harry was sure that if his smile got any wider, it would split his face. “And I would. Yes.”

 

Tom gave an answering grin. “Good.” He stood up, “Let’s go to the dungeons. I have a feeling that someone may be postponing his Potions homework.”

 

“Not true,” declared Harry. “It’s not postponing. I am simply doing research.”

 

As they exited the room and made their way to the dorms, he noticed that fellow students were giving them both a wide berth. He rolled his eyes. The good old Hogwarts gossip machine was still at peak performance.

 

“You’re researching ways to duel it to death,” Tom smirked.

 

“Possibly,” agreed Harry.

 

*

 

It was Sunday morning, before breakfast, because it tended to be served at about ten to accommodate for the hoards of students who were not, in fact, sleeping. A 1943 peculiarity that Harry had found very interesting. In this time breakfast was served late and the students were up at dawn, in his time, the breakfast was at dawn and the students were late. He wondered if there was even a year when they got the students and the breakfast at the same time. 

 

Harry sat in the Slytherin common room, now accepted, respected and, to his eternal frustration, feared. He cursed and slammed his head on the table with a dull thump. When he raised his head to slam it again, there was a book strategically placed to absorb the hit.

 

“Why must you save me?” Harry pleaded with Tom, the placer of the book.

 

Tom simply smiled indulgently and continued to study. Harry was thankful he was getting help because the words were already dancing the samba. The last time the studying had gotten too much for him, he had managed to convince Tom to play a prank on the whole school. It involved Tom’s talent at potions, Harry’s knowledge of how to distract the kitchen house elves and the whole school sneezing glitter the next day. Tom’s enjoyment surprised him the most, giving Harry the idea that Tom might be bored with school. At least now, Tom had another puzzle to occupy him.

 

Unfortunately, this particular puzzle didn’t seem to have a solution. It was like hunting the Horcurxes all over again, only this time not even Voldemort himself, sound and sane, could help. The problem was knowing which universe to return to. It already split into hundred of alternate paths and anyway, putting something into the future, any future, was tricky at best.

 

“I’m going to breakfast,” Harry pronounced. “Anybody coming with?”

 

Tom looked at his book with something like regret in his eyes, gave it one last forlorn pat and rose. “Yes. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

 

“Talk away.” Harry gestured towards the door.

 

Tom rolled his eyes at Harry’s antics but stayed on topic. “You ever tried to work on your Occulumency?”

 

How did Harry know this was coming? Actually, he congratulated himself on putting off Tom for this long. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

 

“And?”

 

“Did you feel any resistance?” Harry shook his head. “I’m just… horrible at it. Like how you are at household spells. There are things that each wizard has on his black list. This is on mine.”

 

Harry could see arguments forming and being dismissed in Tom’s sharp mind. Finally, he gave a mighty sigh and grudgingly accepted Harry’s conclusion. But there was a thoughtful line between Tom’s brows that gave Harry the impression that Tom was not giving up on the idea.

 

They reached the Great Hall in time to get mail. None of them had any loved ones, so that was a perfect non-event which they ignored cheerfully. Until their breakfast was shadowed by four owls carrying two long packages.

 

“What the – I mean, what is going on?” Tom said. Apparently, Harry was a bad influence on his vocabulary. Who knew?

 

Harry, on the other hand, knew exactly what was going on and was ecstatic. “Brooms!”

 

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Why would you spend your money on two brooms?” He was obviously disgusted.

 

“Okay, listen up” said Harry directing his attention towards Tom, “when one’s money outlive him twice, he learns to spend at least some of it.”

 

Tom tilted his head in acknowledgement. “But why two?” 

 

“One’s for you.” Harry handed over a broom grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

 

Tom had a moment’s hesitation reacting in any way. Hand slightly shaking, he reached for it. Harry’s smile softened when Tom studied the new broom with reverence.

 

“Why?” Tom whispered.

 

“Because.” Harry winked. “And if you need a better reason than that, it’s for your birthday. Give or take twenty… twenty six days. Happy birthday!” Harry clapped Tom on his shoulder. Tom’s amazement reminded Harry of the way he looked at presents even now. It made Tom seem real in a way that hadn’t occurred to Harry yet.

 

“How do you know when – Never mind. When’s yours? Where are you going?” Tom asked in amused exasperation when Harry jumped off the bench.

 

“31st July,” said Harry already walking fast towards the pitch. “And I am taking you for a flying lesson before whatever team has training. Come on!”

 

Tom shook his head but walked faster.

 

“Why are you so crazy about flying?” Tom asked curiously. It was so refreshing to see Tom show an emotion as innocent as curiosity.

 

“It’s a human thing. To fly, to know freedom at its best, I mean, it’s a dream that has been around for a long time. Pretty useful, too.”

 

Tom smiled. “I take it you were on your house team?”

 

“For a while, I was on the team from first to third year. Then a bunch of things happened. But I still rode a couple of brooms, a hippogriff, a thestral and, even, a dragon,” laughed Harry. “How are you on the broom, Tom?”

 

“Don’t you already know?” Tom teased.

 

“No,” Harry regarded Tom with a bit more gentleness than strictly necessary, “but I’d be happy to find out.”

 

Tom caught Harry’s eyes for a second. “I’m more than adequate. What I don’t have much of is the drive for ordinary, fun things.”

 

“I can help with that,” Harry smiled as he lifted himself in the air. “Follow me.”

 

And Tom did.

 

They floated around the pitch, flying in parallel, at certain times faster and at others slower. Like some sort of dance, that was simply understood, no word exchange needed. It was uncomplicated, not at all rushed and, yet, some sort of tension was mounting between them. Gentle, it was always gentle, but, at the same time, sneaking up on them, was a great big nothing that made Harry’s heart beat faster. Until, suddenly, it was thudding in his chest and he could hardly cope with intensity of the feeling that _something_ was going to happen.

 

Perhaps this made Harry stop high above the pitch. This feeling made him challenge Tom with his eyes, his smile, his everything. And he wasn’t surprised when Tom’s eyebrow rose, a smirk made his way neatly onto his face and he accepted whatever Harry had to offer.

 

Tom _always_ would.

 

The certainty that came with that sentence gave an echo not unlike a gong going off and caused Harry to shudder, but his eyes didn’t stray from Tom. The intensity between them was an almost physical thing, and when Harry turned his broom and hurled towards the ground, Tom followed suit, not even a bare breath behind, with no hesitation whatsoever.

 

Stormy grey eyes filled with some unnamed emotion were latched on Harry’s own as the ground came closer and closer, their speed evident in the absence of any other sound but the whoosh of air which was getting louder and louder as they streaked faster towards the pitch in what surely seemed like a suicidal move. But Harry felt the need to do it. Do it like this, with his eyes glued onto Tom and Tom refusing to turn and see what was going on.

 

 

That’s what Tom was displaying. The sensation and, the fact, that it was directed at Harry, were glorious. It gave him a high better than adrenaline ever did. Made him want to scream and shout and weep with joy, bliss, passion, _everything_. When, at the last second, he redirected his broom, he managed to somehow convey that thought to Tom and have him, too, get out of the dive.

 

When he felt the brush of the grass on his fingers and Tom still with him, joined it seemed at eye level, he released a victorious laugh. Tom’s seemingly more child-like laugher joined his, in wonder and triumph. For a moment, everything seemed right in the world.

 

Their joy was put on hold temporarily when their heads cleared of each other and were able to hear the applause. The Gryffindor team, had at one point entered the field, and were cheering their heads off at their perfect flying. Whether they were so happy at that part or delighted that Harry and Tom weren’t on the Slytherin team, was still up for debate. Still they saluted army style and flew off the pitch, smirking.

 

“How was that?” Harry asked, a smirk teasing at his lips.

 

Tom pushed his broom closer. “I have to say that was rather nice.”

 

With a last smile Tom closed the distance between them. Harry would have grinned into the kiss if Tom’s full lips were not such a distraction. Suddenly, that _something_ from earlier found a name and Harry was satisfied beyond words at how it all played out. He opened his mouth a smidge to give Tom some sort of idea that he was comfortable to taking it a bit farther and threw his leg over Tom’s broom so they won’t fall down.

 

Tom’s hand gripped the back of his robe pulling him closer, introducing a little bit of heat and possessiveness in an otherwise tame kiss. Harry’s fingers caressed Tom’s face in an effort to show him that it was all right, that he wasn’t going anywhere at the moment and that he was all Tom’s. When Tom’s hand let go of his robes to gently curl in the hair on the back of Harry’s neck, Harry understood that Tom was Harry’s too and he just let himself go.

 

Back and forth, an exchange of control with them firmly being equals, a lack of pressure to be better or worse than your companion and Harry was in heaven. When it wound down, their breaths mingling and their foreheads touching, Harry found out he was pretty much speechless. There were no words to describe what he was feeling and he wasn’t going to try. Added to that, there was a smoke of uncertainty at the back of his head concerning what he was doing and he didn’t want to deal with that. He just wanted to feel Tom, close and warm, far away from the cruel, cold monster he could become.

 

Harry hid his face in Tom neck, inhaling his scent and burying himself deeper in his embrace.

 

“I liked that, too,” Harry said, words muffled in Tom’s shoulder.

 

Tom chuckled warmly. “I have to say it’s quick becoming a favorite of mine.” He brought his hand lower to rub soothingly on Harry’s back. “Are you thinking about what I became?”

 

“Voldemort. And no. I wasn’t thinking that, because I was feeling… safe,” Harry said the word with wonder, “in your embrace.” Harry finally got his face out of the cocoon of affection to study Tom’s face. “I never want to think about him when I’m with you.”

 

“But?” Tom seemed to almost whisper the question.

 

Harry stretched his hand until his palm lay flat on Tom’s cheek. “But that’s still you. And I don’t want to change you.”

 

Tom seemed to contemplate Harry in silence. “I hurt you.” He took Harry’s palm and run his fingers in imagined patterns over it. “I promise, in this universe, I’ll never do it intentionally.” He kissed Harry’s palm.

 

Harry smiled. Though that didn’t solve anything, he found himself believing Tom.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the books or the movies.
> 
> Thank you all for your support (kudos, comments and bookmarks)! It is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> News: I made this story the first in a series that I plan on writting in this universe. It is very dear to me, but unfortunately I didn't have time to write every single idea that was swirling through my head and I wanted to finish it, mostly, before I started publishing. Then I thought, why not make it a series? So I did. Now, I don't know when the next one is going to be published as I have a mountain of work, but it will come sooner than I originally planned. This way, those who want to read more, can, and those who don't, don't have to. I think that this story ties all the loose ends quite nicely, if you don't want to wait however long it takes me to actually publish the next part. Everybody's happy! I hope. (*hides*)

Harry was up bright and early, also known as, late and harried. He was just stumbling out of the portrait when he heard Duke Michelson talking with… somebody. Who was invisible.

 

“… simply don’t know who you’re talking about.”

 

Harry blinked blearily. “Great. You’ve finally gone insane. Talking to people who aren’t actually there.” He shook his head, trying to open his eyes enough to see where he was walking.

 

“I beg your pardon?” said the Duke irritatingly.

 

Harry stopped. He turned, rolling his eyes, “You were talking with somebody. I heard you, but I don’t see anybody.” He waved his hand through the air. “See, nobody here.”

 

Duke Michelson was smug. “I wasn’t talking in English.”

 

“What language could you possibly talk – ” He closed his eyes, pained. “It’s Parseltongue, isn’t it?”

 

Duke Michelson, and his incredibly insufferable snake, smirked. “I believe this is your man.”

 

“Yesss. Massster needs help again. I knew you heard me the lassst time. Quick,” echoed the voice of the basilisk through the corridor.

 

Harry focused his attention on the painted snake so he could respond in the correct language. “Where? And what happened?”

 

“In the chamber. He wasss jussst leaving when men appeared dressssed in black feathersss. They sssealed the chamber with ssstone wallsss. I can’t go in,” wailed the huge snake.

 

“Until I get there, he might already be… wounded.” Fatally, Harry thought but didn’t say.

 

“I can get you until those wallsss,” the snake said. “Come to portrait of the Bloody Baron.”

 

Harry started running towards the painting. “I wisssh to remind you that I’ll do him no good dead.”

 

“I have ways around my poisssonousss eyes, otherwissse the master would be dead.” The voice echoed fretfully, apparently having no problem with keeping pace.

 

When he reached the painting he knocked hurriedly. No sooner had he taken his hand off it when the portrait swung aside and two big, yellow eyes covered with some sort of film were visible.

 

“Great,” Harry said with a shudder. “Where do you want me?”

 

The huge snake lowered his head. “Climb up.”

 

Harry nodded and climbed up. He barely had time to ponder his situation while the basilisk slithered lighting quick through the tunnels, but he had enough for one strange thought. If Tom really wanted to kill the muggleborns, he would have done so already.

 

When they reached a wall, Harry took out his wand and waved in a great arc above him head. “ _Bombarda Maxima._ ”

 

The wall blew up inwards in a shower of pebbles and the shouts of fighting rang through.

 

“Ssstay here,” Harry said to the basilisk while sliding off his head.

 

Harry didn’t want to get Tom’s pet, which was a gigantic target, killed and he didn’t want the basilisk to accidentally kill him or Tom. It was the equivalent of inviting a bull in a china shop, if the china had the power to eventually harm the bull. More mess than they could contain and it was already pretty bad from what he was hearing.

 

The basilisk simply nodded and Harry stepped into the fray.

 

Harry ducked under a ‘ _Stupefy_ ’ and disarmed a bird-man with a well placed _‘Expelliarmus’_ , followed by an ‘ _Incarcerous’_. An ‘ _Expulso’_ took care of another as Harry caught Tom’s beaming smile on a turn and Harry sent one of his back. Three bird-men tried to back Harry into a corner, but it was poorly done and an ‘ _Immobulus’_ handled them all. Presumably, they didn’t have too much magic of their own which is why it worked.

 

Who were these men? And why were they attacking Tom?

 

Another bird-man, or the chief bird-man judging by the crown of feathers on his head, was getting ready to curse Tom who was weaving with a dancer’s grace through two opponents of his own and hadn’t noticed him. Harry sent a ‘ _Confrigo’_ at the wall above his head sending a rush of stones over him and rolled from the path of yet another ‘ _Stupefy’_. He ‘ _Evanesco’_ d the bird-man’s wand mid-roll taking him out of the fight with an ‘ _Incarcerous’_ and directed the flight of a bird-woman towards the ceiling. Her shriek of terror was interrupted by a resounding thump, but Harry eyes weren’t following her anymore.

 

Tom was holding his own, dodging a ‘ _Flipendo’_ , followed up by his own non-verbal curse which burned bright blue and transformed him into a wooden parrot. The small statue didn’t even touch the ground, when Tom's attention was averted by another curse for which he had to throw a shield. However, the bird-people were dwindling when Harry got hit with a ‘ _Crucio’_ from another bird-woman. Or the same one. No, this was another one, because the feathers had a bit of gold at the collar. Anyway, it was so weak that he could still stand and cast at the same time, though he had to do it verbally.

 

Harry took a deep breath and tried to concentrate under the constant thrum of pain. “ _Glacius_ ,” he said from between clench teeth.

 

She froze, ice creaking slightly,  with an expression of puzzlement on her face, presumably wondering what went wrong. Harry shook his head and thought sadly about the fact that he lived in a world where people were disappointed for not being able to cast the ‘ _Cruciatus_ ’ with absolutely no reason at all. 

 

That’s when Harry felt it. The soul deep coldness. He could see his breath and could hear his mother’s scream, with the newly added burden of guilt, closer and closer. Dementors. He couldn’t see any and by the time it occurred to him to turn, his mother’s pain and the overwhelming guilt were already crushing him, threatening to drown him under the flood of feelings.

 

Harry swallowed once when he saw the gaping mouth, blinking rapidly to clear his head though there was no point to it. His father voice joined that of his mother and his guilt doubled. He was practically betraying their memories by his friendship with Tom, showing them that he didn’t appreciate the sacrifices they’ve made. And they were watching, he knew that now. He thought he heard another voice, Tom’s, yell ‘No!’, but it was all becoming fuzzy.

 

Tom’s leopard patronus suddenly jumped in front of Harry, making the world straighten on its’ axis and giving him enough time to call his own patronus. When he looked around he realized that he had fallen sometime during the encounter with the dementors and lifted himself shakily on his feet with the help of the wall.

 

By the time he thought to see what had become of the dementors they were all being chased away by the stag and the leopard, and the bird-people were disappearing. Someone probably had some sort of portkey, or another way to call them back and leave no witnesses behind. That was one measure Voldemort didn’t take. Then again, he exactly care about his Death Eaters and they never knew anything, so that was that. Harry also saw Tom’s concerned – concern, he was showing concern; Harry patted himself on the back – face coming closer.

 

Harry hold up a hand to quench the fire he saw in Tom’s eyes. “I’m alright. See to your pet snake. Did he make it?” Tom still looked undecided when Tom’s patronus touched Harry’s hand, looking to be pet, “Oh, hey there. Thank you.” The leopard gave a rumbling purr then disappeared.

 

Shaking his head at the patronus’ strange behavior, he gave his stag a few pats before he was gone too and made his way towards Tom who was apparently having some sort of reunion with the giant snake. The basilisk was unharmed as far as Harry could see.

 

“Are you hurt?” Harry asked. “Is he?” indicating with his head the giant snake. He hid his trembling hands.  “What happened?”

 

“None of us is hurt. And they just apparated in, declaring themselves to be the Ravens by the man with the crown, the one you dropped the ceiling on, thank you by the way. They sealed Jor out.” Tom stopped at Harry’s surprised laughter.

 

“Jor? Really?”

 

Tom sighed. “He was named after some snake in the Norse mythology. It takes too long to pronounce and it’s far too pompous for a friend.”

 

Harry nodded, secretly swallowing a smile. “Hi Jor. I’m Harry,” he said to the snake in Parseltongue.

 

“Hello Harry,” the basilisk returned. Turning back to Tom, he hissed, “We were right. He ssspeaksss my language.”

 

All of Tom attention returned to Harry, scratching the snake absent mindedly under his left eye. “Yes, we were. Anyway, the same man was apparently upset that I foiled his plan to take Hogwarts’ wards down and they started attacking me. Thank you for your help.”

 

“Anytime. Thanks for the save,” Harry said as succinctly as possible so any weakness he still felt would not be heard in his voice.

 

It was, after all, useless, when the basilisk hissed worriedly, “He’s trembling.” 

 

Harry tried to cover fast. “We should set some anti-apparition wards on the Chamber.”

 

Tom made a great arc and a twitch with his wand. He looked at Harry expectantly and Harry was suddenly struck by inspiration.

 

“Jor are you okay?”

 

The snake seemed taken aback. “Yesss.”

 

Tom who had already understood where this was heading had his eyes closed. Harry smirked. “And is Tom okay?”

 

The basilisk gave a hissing laugh. “No. He’s bleeding in two places. One on the arm, one on the leg.”

 

Harry raised his eyebrows in Tom’s direction. “Hospital wing?”

 

“Let’s go in the dungeons. I have bandages in my room. And chocolate.” Tom yawned. “Let’s skip today’s classes. We’re beyond late for one and I’m not in the mood for Rootenhaus.”

 

Harry raised an imaginary glass. “You can say that again.”

 

*

 

Harry chewed thoughtfully his chocolate while bandaging Tom’s arm with care. He took another bite of chocolate.

 

“There, done. The leg?”

 

Tom made a face. “I can do that myself.”

 

Harry simply waited, still chewing.

 

“You,” said Tom, eyes narrowed, “look like a cow.” That being said, he elegantly stripped his socks and pants off and put his right foot in Harry’s lap.

 

Harry rolled his eyes at Tom’s dramatic gestures and looked at the nick above his knee.

 

“This doesn’t seem too bad,” Harry said pouring some alcohol on pad and gently cleaned the wound. “You know what I was thinking?”

 

Tom hummed.

 

“I was thinking that we should both take some lessons in healing magic from Madame Highwood. Think she’d be willing to teach us?” Harry rolled his eyes. “What am I saying? You, she’ll definitely teach.”

 

“We’d – ” Tom voice came off husky and he coughed, managing to bring it to normal, “we’d both be horrible at it, but it’s better than nothing.”

 

Harry nodded, having finished with the alcohol and moving on to the bandages.

 

“Do you want anymore chocolate?” Tom asked.

 

Harry bit his lip in concentration. “Yes, I should, probably,” he said absently.

 

Tom was wiggling on the bed, making Harry cup his thigh to stop his movement.

 

“I’m almost done. Hold on.” Harry raised his eyes to look at Tom and suddenly felt his mouth dry.

 

Tom’s eyes were glimmering in the light of the candles in the room. His enlarged pupils were the cause of that. And his hand was pushing chocolate against Harry’s lower lip. Harry froze. He quickly tied off the bandage. He pushed his hands higher as he took a bite of the chocolate taking care to touch Tom’s fingers with his lips and tongue.

 

Harry swallowed the chocolate closing his eyes, only this time he had the wicked idea to moan at taste. And it such exquisite taste, Tom’s skin along with the honeyed burn of the chocolate. Even more exquisite was the sound of Tom’s breath catching in his throat. Harry half-way opened his eyes to see Tom’s face as Harry’s hands finally reached their destination and touched Tom through the underwear.

 

In the end, it was Harry who was surprised when he discovered the heat of Tom waiting for his notice. He wrapped a hand loosely around him, bowing down to give it a quick lick on his way towards Tom’s mouth. Tom chocked on a moan, hips bucking on the bed and mouth opening. That was Harry’s target after all, as he pulled Tom in a deep kiss, hand pumping slowly, teasingly.

 

Tom made a noise, something between a whimper and a grunt, and fell back on the bed, hand tangling in Harry’s hair pulling him along. And man, Tom was truly a sight – when Harry lifted his head to look – all red lips and dark eyes, completely at the mercy of his own pleasure. Not that it left Harry indifferent, either. He felt his pleasure slither downwards, from his own bruised lips where he was kissing Tom not a moment ago to his groin which demanded attention something desperate.

 

Harry increased the pressure and the speed of his hand, still loosely wrapped around Tom, still over his underwear and, by the way Tom was starting to trash about, all the hotter for it. Tom’s hands found their way downwards until they found Harry’s ass and pushed Harry’s groin into his thigh, giving Harry sweet, blessed friction. The hands continued to massage it, while Harry couldn’t put a stop to what his body was asking of him and started to move his hips in long, sinuous motions along Tom’s thigh.

 

Feeling himself getting closer he captured Tom’s lips in a desperate kiss, while his hand, quickly pushed though the slightly wet boxers, gripping Tom tight. The contact of skin on warm, probably flushed skin was enough to push Tom over the edge in two strokes. Harry swallowed Tom’s groan as he came, lips continually pressed against his as he came into Harry’s hand. Harry was taken by surprise by his own orgasm, preoccupied as he had been with Tom, and was stuck by the full strength of it with Tom still pumping. His own drawn out moan was enthusiastically received by a victorious and sated Tom, who took to moving his tongue in sinful motions, while Harry shuddered in his arms.

 

“I’m not giving you up,” said Tom unexpectedly making Harry look up at him from where he was collapsed in Tom’s embrace. “I know I should, I know that something went wrong with the dementor, something that was new and, since, I am the only thing new in your life that would matter in that kind of situation, I should give you up. But I won’t. I’m selfish. Today, it almost cost you your soul and I’m giving you up.”

 

Tom smiled at Harry helplessly and bitterly.  

 

Harry began talking in a quiet voice. “Every time a dementor comes near me, I hear my parents the night they died. I hear my father shouting to my mother to take me and go and I hear my mother saying that she would die for me. Every time. And Voldemort killed them. Of course,” Harry said with humor unexpectedly coloring his words, “that was Voldemort’s mistake because the Avada Kedavra he cast rebounded. Or rather gave me the scar, making me the first person to have ever survived the killing curse – “

 

“Twice,” Tom added with a shake of his head.

 

Harry gave a quick smile. “And then rebounded.” He sobered. “This time, it was with an added feeling of guilt. Which is hogwash, because for one my parents would congratulate me on trying to stop you from becoming him and they would never tell me who to be attracted to. And secondly, if they had anything against it, they shouldn’t have died and left me with al the decision making. Because this, you, here with me, is my decision.” He licked his lips, “I’m thinking maybe that was a weakness the dementors could explore by virtue of the surprise factor and, if so, that only works once.”

 

“I’m sorry your life was so fucked up. Especially because of me,” Tom said with heartbreaking sincerity.

 

Harry shook his head. How to explain it? “I don’t exactly blame you. Like me, you had shitty adults that were never there for you and some that were actively against you. After, you went crazy. For that, you kind of take the blame, but at the same time, that’s what I’m trying to stop. None of us had it easy, but let’s see if the both of us can’t stick together. Maybe, it’d be better like this.”    

 

Tom lifted a hand to trace the contour of his face. “I like it a lot better than the alternative.” He took Harry’s glasses off his face. “You’d better clean us, I wouldn’t risk all that beautiful skin with my mastery at this sort of spell,” he said dryly.

 

Harry laughed in Tom’s shoulder.

 

Later with all their school clothes in pile on the floor, Harry fell asleep with his head pillowed on Tom’s chest, lulled to sleep by the soft and steady beating of his heart.

 

*

 

Harry inclined on a wall as he waited for Tom to finish talking to Dippet. He remembered with a smile the awkwardness of that night. He had woken up from a nightmare of the last battle in bed with Tom and thought it would be better if he just left. Unfortunately, that woke Tom up, who apparently had very fixed ideas about what one – or just about Harry – should do after a morning together and leaving in the middle of the night was not among the sanctioned behaviors.

 

Things were uneasy all around, when Harry who had never been particularly good at lying, confessed that the reason for leaving was in no way connected to Tom’s – warm, so warm – body, but to his own night terrors. Harry remembered seeing the realization on Tom face, dark eyes softening with something even darker still lurking in their depths, and Tom’s lips parting to say something just in time for the kiss Harry felt compelled to give. Tom should never look so sad.

 

Tom’s words, when they had both separated, were embossed in Harry’s brain and could never be forgotten. They gave Harry so much warmth. Tom had touched Harry’s brow sweetly, before placing a kiss on the scar. He had leaned back to better hold Harry’s eyes and had said, ‘Don’t hide your hurt from me.’

 

Harry had said he’d consider it if Tom did the same. Tom agreed.

 

That was weeks ago and they still had much to learn abut how to maneuver through the maze that was their relationship. It was all new. Exciting and frightening in equal parts. They both made mistakes and then fumbled though making up for them, finding out what worked for them, individually and as a couple. It could have been a train wreck, but it wasn’t and it made them both happy.

 

Tom’s return was announced by a kiss. “Ready to go?”

 

It was the day before Christmas Eve and they were going to visit Tom’s family.

 

“Remember how I told you that your uncle is kind of slow and angry? And that your father may not give you the best welcome?” These were all warnings that Harry felt comfortable giving considering that he didn’t want to tell Tom what to do. That would be useless, nobody orders Tom, and pointless, if he ever wasn’t around, that meant Tom could go berserk without him. No. After all, it had to be Tom’s choice.

 

“We’re not visiting my uncle today. Inbred and rude doesn’t sound very festive to me,” Tom winked. “As for my father, well I have to meet him eventually.” Tom shrugged appearing unaffected, but Harry could tell he was wary of Harry’s repeated words of caution.

 

Harry was aware he was over-doing with those a bit. Though, he would the first one to testify, from his own experience, that family could hurt him like no other.

 

“Good.” Harry smiled, hiding his apprehension under a flowery offering of his arm to Tom, “Sir? Your side-along apparition awaits you.”

 

Tom rolled his eyes and unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile. “Shall we?”

 

“Let’s.”

 

They went through the oxygen-depriving tube that was apparition, squeezed to all hell, and landed on a grassy field close to an imposing house that Harry had seen only in memories, visions and in a much worse shape. Harry ignored it along with the haunting events that seemed to permeate the whole area and took big gulps of air.

 

“I _hate_ it.” At Tom’s questioning look, Harry started ticking off fingers. “I hate most wizarding ways of transport. I hate the floo, you could end up anywhere and the nausea isn’t what I would call a plus, hate portkeys, for mostly the same reasons and I _hate_ flying cars. They make you fall and they land in killer trees.” Harry’s voice was rising and he was completely ignoring Tom half-amused half-horrified expression. “The only one not wholly terrible is the broom. And even then, if you spend enough time on it, your bum will hurt, you will freeze and your owl might die!”

 

Tom, sporting the same complicated expression, teased softly, “Honey, your issues are showing.”  

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You stole that. That phrase was mine, you didn’t even know what issues were until I explained it to you.”

 

“It’s accurate, isn’t it?” Tom said smugly.

 

Harry opened his mouth to contradict Tom, only to find out that he couldn’t. “I just hate them all, that’s all,” he finally grumbled.

 

Tom gave a smirk and reached to arrange a lock of Harry’s hair, making Harry smile in the process. “Rant over?”

 

“Rant over.”

 

“Where are heading?”

 

“See that big house on the hill?” Harry waited for Tom’s nod to continue, “There.”

 

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Rich.”

 

“And handsome,” Harry confirmed.

 

“Where does my uncle live?”

 

Harry sighed. “See that… house over there?” He stumbled over his words a bit but hoped he recovered quickly enough.

 

“ _That_ is a shack. And it looks to have been that way since its construction,” Tom said with disgust. Harry kept quiet. “Not rich,” Tom concluded.

 

Harry shook his head.

 

Tom examined him. “Or good looking, by the sound of your silence.” 

 

“But the heirs of Slytherin,” Harry pronounced cheerfully.

 

“Still. That wouldn’t have meant much to a muggle.” Tom analyzed the situation in a blink of eye, as he was wont to do. “So, spell or potion?”

 

“Potion,” Harry whispered.

 

Tom gave bark of bitter laughter, making Harry take a step closer. “She fell for her own scheme, must have thought he really loved her.”

 

Harry swallowed. “Hoped. I guess she didn’t want to live a lie anymore. And I have seen your mother, you can too if wanted to, there was something pleasant about her and if he would have…” Harry trailed off. “The circumstances were…” terrible? That was an understatement. “The circumstances were as they were,” he finished lamely.

 

Tom huffed. “If you are trying to say they were all fools who made one stupid decision after the last, then yes, I believe you.”

 

Harry couldn’t comment on that and simply followed Tom as he walked towards the big house.

 

“Here goes nothing,” Tom said and knocked a couple of times.

 

The door opened several seconds later and Harry felt like he had done all he could. Now it was Tom’s choice, Tom’s show and all Harry could offer at this point was support. This was it, the moment of truth, the moment where he found out if he managed to produce any fledging of awareness in Tom. Harry trusted Tom, reluctantly and ready to be thrown that trust in his face along with a green curse, but he trusted him. It was time to find out if it all was enough.  

 

In the doorway stood a man who could have been Tom in twenty or so years but for the eyes. His were a clear brown. Watching them both was like seeing double and a bit in the past. Tom’s dark grey eyes were studying the man under an affable smile. Before he could say anything, however, the man scoffed.

 

“You came at last.”

 

Tom raised an eyebrow, which apparently wasn’t in the family repertoire if the scowl on Tom Riddle Sr. face was to be believed. Neither was the ability to make people feel inferior just by breathing next to them, but in that, Harry thought he might be biased in his opinion.

 

A shout came from inside the house. “Who’s that?” It was a woman’s voice.

 

Senior sneered. “It’s the – ”

 

“Your son,” Harry interrupted.

 

Under Senior’s disdainful look, Harry didn’t even blink. Honestly, he had much, much worse. “My son and his friend.”

 

“Let them come in.” This time the voice was male and very nasty.

 

They went in the house, Tom’s demeanor icy and restrained. But there was fury underneath. Rage like the unsuspecting muggles hadn’t seen. These people were, after all, his family. And whatever his mother had done, it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve any of it. Not the poverty, not the suspicion and, certainly, not to be forced to fight from the day he was a toddler to make some kind of life for himself.

 

Harry knew, as did Tom, that life wasn’t fair. And people rarely received what they deserved. But he also knew that there were times when you just want to strangle those responsible even for a small bit of that injustice. The Riddle family was responsible for enough. Still, they didn’t get the honor of being the drop of liquid that made the glass spill over in Tom’s life. Harry only hoped that Tom got that.

 

Tom and Harry hardly stepped into a grand living room where a large library and an elegant chess set were gathering dust, when they heard whom they both suspected was the grandmother ask incisively, not even looking up from her cards. “How much do you want?” Senior’s parents were seated at an especially dark wood table on maroon plush winged back chairs unconcerned, apparently, with making introductions.

 

“Excuse me?” managed to bit out Tom. 

 

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” laughed cruelly his grandfather. “You are out of money, just like everyone else, and decided we could provide them for you.”

 

Harry could see Tom’s eyes searching his father and, seeing that none of the authority resided there, gave him one last disgusted glance before turning to his grandmother who was again talking.

 

“And we can, boy, but – ”

 

“Thomas Marvolo Riddle,” Harry interrupted again. “Not boy.” He had problems with that way of addressing somebody, but especially a member of the family, sue him. He thought he could read gratitude in Tom’s grey eyes, but it was gone too fast to be sure of anything. It didn’t matter, Harry had corrected her for himself, too.

 

She gave Harry one dismissive glance and continued. “There are conditions. We never hear from you again, you don’t contact us, you don’t ask for more money. You cease to exist,” she enunciated every word. “Did I make myself clear?”

 

Tom’s hand twitched and, to Harry’s horror, his wand fell into it. “Yes. Quite.”

 

Harry felt that this was the time to intervene to help these people who didn’t deserve it, to help Tom, who did. To do something. And yet he reminded himself, this was Tom’s choice. Harry had promised himself that this would be Tom’s choice. Whatever that meant. Harry didn’t take a step forward to be closer to Tom, because that could be seen as wanting to stop him, and didn’t take a step back, not wanting to be separated from Tom’s actions. With his chin raised Harry tried conveying trust in Tom and comfort. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.

 

Tom’s grandfather rolled his eyes. “Again. How much do you want?”

 

Harry saw a smirk slide on Tom’s face and his heart stated beating quicker.

 

“All.” Tom raised his wand when they started sputtering and _Stupefy_ -ed them. “I want all your money.”  

 

That… was a lot better than Harry had been thinking. He blinked, confused. “Now what?” he distantly heard himself ask.

 

Tom shrugged. “Now… we take all their money?” Tom sighed. “I don’t know. I just wanted them to shut up. I almost killed them.” He began pacing and rambling in an attempt to calm himself. “You think we can do that to Dumbledore too? The silencing part, not the killing. I think it would be a good change of pace for him. Don’t even try to hide it, you definitely are not one of his fans. Maybe a potion and we can put in those damn drops he likes.”

 

This time Harry did step closer. He met Tom and gave him a hug. “I’m so damn proud and a little bit over my head in love with you,” Harry whispered.

 

Tom froze but then squeezed back almost painfully. “That’s fine. I’m a little over my head in love with you, too.”

 

Harry could feel Tom letting go just enough so he could hide his face in Harry’s shoulder. “Did I do it? Whatever I was supposed to do, that drove me crazy. I didn’t do it, did I?” Tom mumbled in Harry’s coat.

 

Thinking about it, Harry realized that Tom already had that particular discussion with Slughorn. “No, you didn’t make your first Horcrux by killing your father.”

 

Tom went still. “Seven?”

 

“Eight. You didn’t really have much of a soul at the end,” Harry grimaced. “And I’m not completely sure, but it seemed to me that it led to your insanity.”

 

“Something Slughorn neglected to mention. Not that I’d have listened. Or perhaps I would have.” Tom sounded lost.

 

Harry kissed his hair before letting go and lightly settling his hands on Tom’s shoulders.  “You didn’t do it. It’s all that matters.”

 

“Is it?” Tom challenged, eyes flashing. “I almost killed him. Them. All of them,” he spat.

 

“You stopped. Without my input, knowing that I wouldn’t stop you. _You_ stopped _yourself_ ,” Harry told him with confidence.

 

Tom took a deep breath. His grey eyes were fixed on Harry’s for a few seconds, searching. Finally he nodded, “Right. Now to go about obtaining the money. Veritaserum?”

 

“If you have any,” Harry shrugged.

 

“I do. So should you,” Tom gave him a look. Harry smiled sheepishly.

 

The money was apparently buried under the house. There was a war going on and the banks weren’t safe. Tom rolled his eyes and turned to Harry gesturing to the floor. Harry used a common household charm to vanish the planks. Tom conjured a shovel and, after casting a _Rennervate_ on Senior, he ordered, “Dig.”

 

The man’s brown eyes were filled with confusion and fear. Tom lifted an eyebrow, cold and calculated.

 

“Did I stutter?” Tom asked quietly.

 

Tom Riddle Sr. started digging, while his parents, Tom grandparents, were watching them from the chairs, where they were tied up and silenced.

 

‘Who are you?’ Tom’s grandmother mouthed. Tom caught her movement and gave a sharp laugh once she repeated herself.

 

“It’s what you get for not even having the decency to say ‘Hello’ before assuming I was after your money. I wasn’t. But I am now,” he responded brightly. “What were the conditions? You don’t want to hear from me again. I can do that.”

 

Harry tried to be as unobtrusive as possible. He wondered around the living room, making it seem like he hadn’t heard the conversation, when he finally caught sight of one familiar, leather bound journal. He closed his eyes, knowing just how close they’ve passed over this particular hurdle. But they did pass it.

 

Once the money was dug out, Tom took two-thirds for himself, shrinking them. Smirking, he _Imperio_ ’d his father’s family to give the rest away. “It will be your penance to share with others in their time of need. This is a war, after all. You will share all your riches with the most unfortunate. You won’t remember this meeting, but you will remember you had a son or grandson.” He paused. “You love him very much and hardly wait for him to contact you. You won’t try to find him,” he said, voice unsteady. “Sleep.”

 

Tom turned and walked out of the house, leaving Harry to hurry up after him, his mind full with what had happened.

 

“What just happened?” Harry finally asked after walking next to Tom for a bit. Running, more like.

 

Tom stopped, “What do you think happened?”

 

“I’m not sure.” Harry pushed back his glasses. “Either, you wanted people to know that your family is generous if they ever stumble upon them or you really wanted your family to be generous or you just wanted them to give money away and enjoy it.”

 

Tom smiled and shook his head. “Sometimes, I swear you read my mind. I guess you have a lot of practice, but I’ll get there too, eventually.” He gave Harry a little kiss, on the corner of his mouth. “As for the reasons, well, they are all true.”

 

Harry snorted, “Of course they are.”

 

“Ready to go?”

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Harry sighed.

 

Tom’s laughter this time was bright and happy.

 

*

 

Tom took the silver wrapped present with care. He held as if it were something precious, in and of itself, and Harry understood completely. It was Christmas morning, they were in a room Harry had rented in Hogsmeade, at Rooverstead Inn, with a king bed, the fireplace crinkling cheerfully and just the presents they had for each other. It was perfect.

 

“Open it,” Harry smiled.

 

“I will, I will,” Tom said. He moved to kiss Harry, a simple touch of lips upon lips. “Thank you.”

 

Harry swallowed. He wanted to tell Tom that he hadn’t opened it and as such he couldn’t be sure if he liked it or not. But they both knew that’s not what Tom was saying it for. Tom, like Harry until coming to Hogwarts and even then, never had much of a Christmas.

 

“Thank you,” was all Harry could say.

 

Tom frowned and studied Harry, who shrugged.

 

“The present?” Harry said voice slightly deeper with the weight of the words unsaid. Like how he was glad to share Christmas with someone who finally understood. Someone who didn’t feel pity for him, especially for circumstances beyond his control. Someone who was exactly as unknowledgeable as him and they both could make their own traditions without simply copying and accepting them with a forced smile. It was freeing.

 

“Harry… this is… Is it?” Tom was pretty much speechless. In his hands rested comfortably Slytherin locket.

 

Harry smiled. “It is. It belongs to you. Well, to your mother, but I think she would have wanted you to have it.”

 

“How did you find it?” Tom was caressing the locket, but his eyes were glued to Harry.

 

“I might have used some information from the future and might have done some illegal maneuvering. But I learned from the best,” grinned Harry. Never mind that it had taken him almost two months.

 

Grey eyes were light in their gratitude and Tom’s voice was lowered reverentially, “Thank you.”

 

Harry took the locket and put it around Tom neck. “It’s where it belongs.”

 

Tom avoided meeting Harry’s eyes during that particular comment, but that was all right, Harry knew Tom had difficulties with showing his emotions. Hell, Harry had his own demons concerning the subject.

 

It was Tom’s turn. And Harry was about to be proven wrong. Well, partially wrong. Because while it was difficult for Tom to maintain eye contact when I it came to emotions, he could sure talk about them.

 

“I suspect it’s been hard on you, not to be able to return to your friends. But I, for one, am thankful you are here,” began Tom carefully. “You’ve taken everybody – by which I mostly mean me and I don’t really care about anybody else, except I know there have been others – by surprise. You’re like a storm, silent and calm until somebody angers you and then vicious and always moving. And,” he lifted a hand to keep Harry, who had opened his mouth, from speaking, “I guess you haven’t been like that from the beginning, still, that’s how you are now. But Harry, you’re beautiful. Wild and untamable and so, so beautiful.

 

“You have shaken me. Made me consider that I could be bored and not evil. That I could be cunning, mischievous maybe, and not cruel.” Tom shrugged. “You are my patronus. That’s how I see you. A black leopard with the greenest eyes.”

 

Tom gave his present to Harry who was still trying to get his bearings straight. That had been one hell of a confession and Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to it, or even if he could. In the green wrapped box, there were photographs of his parents, Remus and Sirius as they appeared to him on the night of the battle along with a piece of paper. On it, there were two words: _‘Immortalis Memento’_.

 

Harry lifted his head and looked at Tom questioningly. Words failed him and Harry had given up on them.

 

“It’s a spell I invented. Seeing as you don’t have anything of home, but your memories, I thought of a way to make them photographs. Of course,” he chuckled slightly, “you won’t be upset if I use it too, right?”

 

Harry grabbed Tom’s hand and planted a kiss on his wrist. Harry simply had to use words to convey… everything. His gratitude and Tom’s misapprehension. Words were important.  “You invented me a spell. A spell! And then you ask me if you can use it. Obviously! And thank you. It… it means a lot.” Harry took a deep breath and tried to think before speaking. “Though it wasn’t… the loss isn’t as great as you make it seem.”

 

Tom frowned.

 

“When Dumbledore asked me in the dream state, death sequence, whatever it was, if I wanted to return, I answered instinctually. I always want to survive. But I didn’t think it through.” Tom’s hand tightened like a vice and Harry hurried to explain. “Not that I regret my decision! And I’m glad I didn’t think it though. Because there wasn’t much expecting me. I would have always been the Boy-Who-Lived. Twice. And nothing I could have done would have possibly been more important than that. Here, I can still grow. We could maybe catch bird-man and I could discover a new dueling method. I could be anonymous, though it’s highly unlikely, but I could.

 

“And yeah, there would be people that I’ll miss. But they have their own life. I didn’t have anybody of my own so, they’ll grieve, yes, but they’ll move on. I know that the universes have shifted and that it already has been too much time. I still tried, because that’s who I am. It’s my instinct, to push back. But I think I’ll stop now. I have everything I need here.”

 

There was silence after that statement. And words in that silence that were too heavy for a non-life threatening, non-sanity threatening kind of situation. Words like ‘I love you’. Yet. They will reach that stage. But for now, it was enough. Stormy gray reaching for electric green.

 

“As for what I want…” leered Harry, breaking the tension, and making Tom laugh.

 

“You,” Tom pounced, “are incorrigible.” He leaned in for a kiss. “And also, right.”

 

They both heard the knock on the window pane two minutes later, but they were both rather preoccupied to worry about who it may be. The knock came again, and again, and again until Harry was annoyed enough to vanish the window. The owl left a red letter and flew away. Who sends howlers on Christmas day?

 

“Did you give Dumbledore a present?” asked Tom with a raised brow.

 

Harry had time to give Tom an amused look before it opened up.

 

“Greetings Thomas M. Riddle,” it said in a crabby voice.

 

Tom, who at this point only had a pair a slacks on, blinked. Harry, underneath him, snorted. The howler went on undisturbed.

 

“You have once again thwarted my plans. But, mark my words, you won’t do so again.” Tom was mouthing ‘thwarted my plans’ with an expression that said quite clearly he believed the writer to be exceedingly stupid, while Harry was quietly laughing. “Sincerely, Duke Robert ‘The Raven’ Michelson.”

 

That had the effect the Duke was probably expecting, as they were both speechless, but not for the reasons he was probably counting on. The silence went on for two heart beats, maybe three, when Harry erupted into laughter so loud, violent and bright, that Tom was dislodged neatly and not unlike a scared cat. Harry ended up rolling on the bed and, suddenly, down on the floor with hardly a pause and a grunt in between.

 

“How stu – he made a threat. And then he signed it,” marveled Tom to the room at large and at Harry who was still rolling on the floor.

 

“Hey!” Harry stopped wiping the floor with his clothes. “Duke Robert ‘The Raven’ Michelson,” he said wiping tears of mirth away. “Obviously bird-man. But any relationship with the portrait Michelson?”

 

Tom’s head appeared over the edge of the bed. “Must be. How many ‘Duke Michelson’s could there possibly be?”

 

“I knew I hated that guy,” Harry said with feeling.

 

Tom nodded to acknowledge Harry’s point. “What now?”

 

“I did say we could catch the bird-man,” Harry shrugged. “He just announced he’s after you. From now on, we proceed with care. Other than that, not much to do.”

 

Tom seemed doubtful. “You seem very relaxed.”

 

“I had a real nightmare after me every year I was at Hogwarts. Now, he’s on my side, sane I might add, and the guy hunting him, just sent a howler, signed it and gave us our best lead. Yeah, maybe he’s strong, maybe he’ll catch us when we least expect it, but as far as these things go, I’m golden.” Harry folded an arm under his head. “Apparently, there are always going to be Dark Lords. Since that thought is not nearly as disturbing as I thought it will be I guess it was you that I wanted to help.”

 

With a smile, Tom offered his arm so Harry could get up and join him on the bed. “Let them come.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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